Love and Order
by DaisyDay
Summary: With careers in NYC and LA, Mike and Connie have been leading separate lives for the past year. Then an intriguing case brings them together once again as hidden feelings are revealed. Besides the romance, expect lots of courtroom drama!
1. Chapter 1

(Disclaimer: These characters are part of the Law and Order universe.)

_(Hello, it's great to be back! I've worked really hard on this story and I am so excited to post it at last! Even if you are not a hopeless romantic, I hope the trial case itself will be enough to entice you to continue reading!)_

_**LOVE AND ORDER**  
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Chapter 1

New York City, 10 pm

It was dark when Bureau Chief Michael Cutter stepped out of the DA's office. Even with a thick jacket on, the cold New York City winter sank deep into his bones, and the wind blew easily through several layers of clothing. It was almost intolerable.

It was too late to stay in the office, but too early to go back to the quietness of his apartment. So he did what he did many nights at this hour—head for the neighborhood bar.

The Whiskey Tavern was a neighborhood bar within walking distance of the office. Late evening was a perfect time to come, for only a few patrons were present. He liked the solitude, plus the drinks were served stiff and strong.

Michael took his regular seat at the bar as the bartender came over immediately.

"The usual?"

The bartender did not even wait for a reply as he automatically produced and poured a glass of whiskey for him and left Mike the bottle before he sauntered away.

Mike quickly downed the drink. The first swallow was always the best. The liquid burned all the way down his throat and he was glad for that. He poured himself another. It felt good to numb his mind.

Anything to stop thinking about Connie again.

It had been a year since she had left New York, yet he could not seem to get her out of his mind. Strangely, it was the little things about her that he missed the most. The way she folded her arms and leaned back when she was listening attentively, the closeness of their bodies as they walked in tandem to the courthouse, or how casually she would sit on his desk, tossing _his_ baseball as she waited for a court decision.

She was always there and he had taken that fact for granted until the day she had up and left. Gone from New York City, gone from the DA's office, and gone from his life. He took a deep breath in.

No matter how hard he tried, there was just no getting over her.

He touched his hand to his glass, intending to take another drink when from his peripheral vision, he saw movement beside him. He turned slightly to glance at the new occupant sitting one seat away from him. She appeared to be a random pretty blonde who smiled pleasantly up at him. He nodded before concentrating again on his drink.

As he lifted his glass to take another drink, she directed her words at him.

"You come here often; I've seen you here before." Her voice was low and sensual.

But Mike did not notice how her voice sounded as he took a gulp; he really wanted to be alone with his thoughts. He did not care to encourage the flow of conversation.

"It's a place to keep away the cold," he commented as he stared forward at his drink.

"…or a place to forget about your problems, per chance?" she bluntly asked.

That got Mike's attention as he turned to give her a better look.

She really was quite attractive as she looked at him with those violet eyes. Ah, but what he wouldn't give to be looking into warm, coffee-colored ones instead. Still showing no interest, he turned and faced his drink again.

"Perhaps."

"Let me guess...nursing your drink over girlfriend problems?"

Mike smiled awkwardly, his dimples still able to show through. She was trying her darnest. And she had managed to pique his interest with her last question.

"And how do you know my problem is not money or work related?" he asked her, still staring straight ahead.

"Oh, that's very easy," she was ready with an answer, "…due to the appearance of your clothes. They're expertly tailored and despite a day's work, they're still crisp, neat, and clean. You definitely make a good living and you care about your job. No...it has to be girlfriend problems."

_Humph!_ Mike thought, as her words reverberated in his mind, a good living being a civil servant? That's a laugh! Mike lifted his glass by its rim and swirled the liquid around a bit.

"Girlfriend problems, eh? If it were only that…" he wistfully stated.

The blonde woman slightly furrowed her forehead, not understanding his last remark. But at least she had engage him in conversation.

She stuck out her hand, "My name's Stacey, by the way."

Mike turned and looked hesitantly at her welcoming hand before reaching out and shaking it. As they clasp hands and loosely shook, he felt nothing at the physical contact.

"Mike," he responded with a nod.

She tilted her head and gave him her most enticing smile, "Well, Mike, nice to meet you and I think we are off to a good start…"

For the next ten minutes they conversed. Or, rather, Stacey corrected herself, she conducted an interview. For it seemed that every topic she hit upon only received a mild response from him. To her, he was merely feigning interest. Although the conversation was nice enough, she felt this Mike guy seemed…detached. If anything, he seemed more involved with his drink.

Perhaps she needed to send out stronger signals.

She leaned in closer towards Mike, placing her hand encouragingly on his upper thigh. So as not to be overheard, she spoke in a very soft tone, "You _know_, Mike_…_ we could always finish this conversation at a more intimate place, if you'd like…"

Mike turned fully to look directly in her eyes for the first time.

"You are not one to mince words, are you?"

She stared straight back, without blinking.

"I like the direct approach, Mike. Cuts down on wasted time, misunderstandings. Yes, we could circle around each other, flirting, teasing, laughing and _then_ end up at my place, or we could go there first and let whatever happens, happens. I personally prefer the latter."

She waited, watching, not sure if Mike would respond.

"Mike?" she prodded, "No promises, no attachments, cross my heart."

Mike was once more looking at his drink as he mumbled, "Early morning strangers."

Stacy scowled, not sure she heard right, "What?"

Mike at last, turned to look at her.

"Since we are being so open with one another, I'm referring to if we were to leave together. We'd only be late night acquaintances who will wake up as early morning strangers."

Now Stacy looked slightly perturbed, "I never said anything about staying overnight."

"Isn't the implication there pretty obvious?" Mike's tone was emotionless, as if he never planned to go through with that plan anyway. He turned back to his drink.

Trying to conceal her disappointment, she drew the correct conclusion that this would not be her night.

She felt an attraction for Mike, but they were definitely not on the same wavelength. Getting up from the bar stool, she pulled out her business card from her purse. Stacey then leaned in and spoke almost in a whisper-like tone, as she left the card on the counter in front of him.

"Look, my earlier suggestion was just a way for two attractive people to deal with the case of the lonelys. It doesn't have to mean anything. So, if you ever need an 'early morning stranger' in the future, Mike, give me a call."

She tried to give her most inviting smile, but Mike wasn't even looking at her as she departed.

With her gone, Mike picked up her business card and stared at it.

He knew this was one number he would never call. His mind then drifted back to Connie. So many times in the past year, he thought of calling her. But they had been merely working colleagues. Both of them had made that issue very clear.

Also, a year had past. She had moved on and he had…moved in circles.

"…she's some piece of work…" the bartender interrupted Mike's thoughts. The bartender had started wiping the counter area near him. It took Mike seconds to realize that the bartender had witnessed Stacey and him interacting.

Mike took out a twenty and left it on the counter, alongside the business card.

"Yeah," responded Mike absent-mindedly, "she was pretty aggressive."

The bartender stopped wiping, "You think I was referring to Blondie? No, I'm talking about the woman who broke your heart."

Mike's head popped up with a stunned expression on his face, "What?"

The bartender knowingly guffawed.

"Listen, son, I've been doing this a long time and I've seen it all, " he said, "and _you_ are definitely someone who has lost the love of his life."

Mike had no response as he turned to leave. He had talked to two people tonight and yet he could not have felt more alone. And what made Mike feel worse was that he could not deny the bartender's parting words.

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Los Angeles 7 pm

At that same time, the Los Angeles District Attorney's office was quiet. Only one hard working prosecutor had elected to stay late at her desk.

A solitaire desk light shined on her desk, its beam focused on the file opened at her desk. District Deputy Attorney Connie Rubirosa looked at the clock, as she took a break from the many hours of reading her files. She needed to rest her eyes. It had been another long workday. She leaned back in her chair, rubbed her eyes and stretched. There were two cases pending and she still had some research to complete.

In the daytime she welcomed the bustle of the office workers and the humming of the machines. There was so much to do and she rarely had time to think of anything personal.

But now…in the quietude of the confined office, her mind was allowed to wander in wild tangents.

Or perhaps just one tangent.

She looked at the empty take- out dinner boxes sitting at her desk. It reminded her of the countless times she and Mike had ordered take out as they worked a case. She cherished those times now. She took a deep breath at the lost memory. Quickly she reached over to retrieve the boxes and tossed them in the trash.

If only she could toss aside her thoughts of Mike as easily.

For despite all manner of trying to act professional during her employment in New York City, she had found herself attracted to her boss. What's worse, it was more than a mere attraction, there were deep feelings buried underneath her heart.

She knew exactly how this night would end. Later she would lay awake in her bed hoping in vain for sleep to overtake her. She wanted her dreams to take her away from the emptiness of her life. But once again, as with most nights, she'd end up staring into the darkness, the silence interrupted only by the ticking of the clock.

And it would be at this time, totally alone in a cold forlorn bed, that she would miss him the most.

Back to the present, Connie now looked out the window at the twinkling lights of the city, wondering what Mike was doing right at this moment. Time had passed, they had moved on.

Yet, why couldn't she get him out of her mind?

She berated herself for thinking these thoughts of someone who was no longer in her life. Regretfully, she wondered once again how she could let personal feelings get in the way of her work. She shook her head at her own foolishness, for she already knew the answer to that.

Because her lonely heart had not learned its lesson.

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	2. Chapter 2

The Case

Chapter 2

Connie Rubirosa was caught in the normal LA morning traffic gridlock.

Getting to work wasn't like in New York City, where she could hire a taxi. Here, she had to maneuver her own vehicle through all the traffic congestion, as rows and rows of cars continued to move at a snail's pace.

Welcome to the rush hour.

Usually Connie was not an impatient driver, but she had an early morning meeting with Jerry Hardin, LA's District Attorney. Earlier that morning he had called her at the home she shared with her mother, regarding a case that had landed on his desk.

Over the phone, DA Hardin had summarized the case in one sentence: a stripper accused two wealthy young men of raping her at one of their exclusive beach-house wine parties.

Connie figured this was going to be one tough case to prosecute, being the victim worked as a stripper, rendering her unsympathetic to the jury.

_"Jerry, you do realize that I'm already working on two of Joe's cases, don't you?" _Connie had asked, as she balanced a bagel in her hand and held the phone against her shoulder_, "And now you're adding to my caseload?"_

_"This is different, "_DA Hardin explained,_ "this victim, the stripper, specifically asked for you. So you'll be going in as first chair…but don't get too excited since I haven't decided if we should push forward for a trial yet ...We'll discuss the details the minute you get here, alright?"_

Back to the present, the thought of being first chair on a trial brought a smile to Connie's lips despite having to sit through the stop and go traffic.

She tried not to get her hopes up.

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The unpredictable traffic delay caused her to arrive slightly late at DA Hardin's office. Pausing at the doorway, she noted Jerry Hardin seated at his desk, as well as someone whom she assumed was the opposing counsel.

The other man, who was short and balding, looked perturbed at having to be kept waiting.

"Dammit! It's about time!" bellowed Stanford Bennett, the defense lawyer, when Connie walked in, "Hardin, you need to run a tighter ship with your employees!"

Connie started to open her mouth in response, but Hardin had already interceded.

"Relax, Stan…" Hardin said to Bennett, "it's LA! Out here, we're laidback about _everything_! But, before we proceed, let me be the first to go on record to say that... Stan, I've noticed something _very_ different about you..."

Stanford Bennett looked confused as Jerry Hardin gave Bennett the once over. Then Hardin snapped his fingers knowingly as he pointed at Bennett's protruding belly.

"I've got it! ... You've lost weight, haven't you?" DA Hardin couldn't resist the jab.

"Don't start that crap with me, Jer!" Stanford Bennett blustered as Hardin grinned.

"Fine by me, Stan…instead, let me make introductions…this is DDA Rubirosa...and Connie, this here is ambulance chaser, Stanford Bennett."

Connie nodded before she sat down, but Bennett seemed to brush her presence away with a wave of his hand.

"An unproven _female_ Deputy District Attorney? Shouldn't she be busy typing up a report or something?" asked Bennett.

"Low blow even for you, Stan," Hardin snapped, "Just get to the point of why you called this meeting…"

"Isn't it obvious? "asked Bennett, "You're not _actually_ going ahead with a trial for that stripper- slash- prostitute, are you? You don't seem to have a lot of confidence if you're planning on putting a junior prosecutor on the case!"

Connie did not care for Stanford Bennett's pompous attitude.

"Unwarranted name-calling won't intimidate me, Mr. Bennett!" Connie spoke out,"Despite your rudeness, I plan to push forward for a trial; our client needs justice for the heinous act perpetrated by _your_ two defendants!"

"Please Jerry," Bennett had turned away from Connie, "Can you and I discuss this alone together?

"I told you, Stan," Hardin said, "she was asked specifically by the victim."

Connie could not fathom how this Paige Smith even knew about her.

"Come on, Jer!" pointed out Stan, "You know you can't win with a stripper as a client! It's her sleazy word against my two law abiding young defendants! Is all of this grandstanding necessary?"

Hardin seemed to be weighing the options.

"Alright, I'm reasonable...let's talk, Stan," Hardin sounded as though he was caving in, to the surprise of Connie, "before we waste any more time this morning...and this is hypothetical, mind you...what would it take for this to all go away?"

Bennett smiled smugly.

"Now you're being smart, Jer! For starters," Bennett pushed his agenda, "I want Miss Paige Smith to publicly apologize for destroying the reputation of two fine, upstanding young men…and then we'll settle for an immediate dropping of all the charges."

Connie couldn't help it. She gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

"That is ridic—" began Connie.

"...After all," Bennett added, "you know that lowlife trashy stripper was asking for it!"

That's _it_, Connie thought. Bennett better be ready to deal with _her!_

"In the first place, Mr. Bennett," began Connie, her voice slightly shaking from frustration, " _kindly_ address all comments regarding this case to me, since I am her counsel! And in the second place, whatever her profession might be, you can rest assure that when we get to court, I will make sure she will not be _bullied_ by some _loud mouthed defense lawyer!_"

For the first time that morning, her boss, Jerry Hardin smiled, "You heard her, Stan!"

But Stanford almost sneered at her, "Sweetheart, there are some factors you don't know about the case."

Connie folded her arms stubbornly.

"Alright, Mr. Bennett, suppose you enlighten me, then, since you seem to know everything."

He gave her a smarmy smile.

"By all means…In the first place, in your alleged victim's statement…and Jerry can back me up on this one… Miss Smith clearly stated her rapists were named Jesse and Phoenix."

Connie shrugged, uncomfortably, knowing she wasn't going to like where this was going, "And?"

Bennett leaned forward, "My clients names are Patrick Martin and Edward North. They have no nicknames, no aliases, no connections to _Jesse_ and _Phoenix_. So what do you have to say about _that_?"

"I would have to confer with my client before I could comment," insisted Connie, holding her head up high.

She hated the sef-assured look he shot back at her.

"Why wait? I have _my_ papers containing Miss Smith's exact words right here, " Bennett started rummaging through his briefcase, "Let me find it for you...hold on... it's here somewhere...Hmmm…Ahhh! _Here_ it is!"

He brought out a file, opened it and purposely cleared his throat, "_The two_ _boys who did this. Their names were Jesse and Phoenix.__"_

He lowered the folder and looked up as if expecting applause.

Connie bit her lower lip while Bennett turned back to speak to DA Hardin.

"Listen, Jerry, we have a history, you and I...and we've always been honest with one another. I'm here to tell you you're fighting a losing case, " Bennett stated.

"Talk to the hand, Stan," said DA Hardin, at last defending Connie, "You've heard what Miss Rubirosa said. This is _her_ case. My involvement is minimal, at best."

Stanford Bennett turned to Connie.

"Then let me do you a favor, sweetheart," he stated arrogantly, "and tell you part of my court strategy on this case. I plan to show that your little white trash client is going after my boys because they have money. You know how juries hate money-grubbing bimbos."

Connie wanted so much to knock the chip on the idiot defense lawyer's shoulder.

"So to summarize," Bennett concluded, "if you stupidly decide to bring this case forward, I will annihilate your client's sullied name, your own professional reputation _and_ the prestige of your boss's office in one fell swoop. This will not end pretty for the two of you."

"We'll just see about that!" said Connie, not backing off.

Bennett tsked-tsked to Connie, "You'll soon see that Jerry was wrong to involve you in this case."

"My boss was only wrong about _one_ thing," Connie said evenly.

Bennett's interest was piqued.

"And what's that, Sweetheart?"

"I don't think, Mr. Bennett, that you've lost _any_ weight."

Bennett looked indignantly as Hardin, who again, had to work at hiding a smile. Connie stood up, signaling the end of the meeting, as both men also stood.

Bennett made a deal of straightening his jacket.

"I am _quite_ done here, "announced Bennett, acting as if _he_ made the decision to end the meeting, " and Miss Rubi –whatever your name- I look forward to a face off with you in court. However, if your boss is smart, he'll agree not to file charges."

"I think it is too early for me to be discussing my case with you," stated Connie coolly, "Good-bye, Mr. Bennett, and I'll see you in court."

He left, leaving DA Hardin alone with Connie in his office.

"I'm glad you stood your ground against that old windbag, " DA Hardin stated to Connie afterwards.

"I think he'll end up burying himself with his own egotistical foolishness," predicted Connie, who looked ready to do battle, "So, Jerry, I'll take the file now and begin filing the motion immediately."

Hardin's reaction was not what she had expected.

"Actually, Connie," he stated solemnly, "After taking in everything that was said at this meeting, I don't think it would be in the best interest of this office if we proceed with the case. Sorry."

"You can't do that!" Connie insisted.

"I can if the case is not winnable," DA Hardin ruled.

Connie had not expected that the case would be pulled out from under her before she even got her hands on the file. She looked crossly at her boss while at the same time, wishing there was someone she could talk to regarding this frustrating situation.

She used to have someone she could talk to, she thought ruefully, but he lived on the other side of the country now.

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It was still morning when Mike walked towards his office in New York City. He had a cup of joe in his hand, ready to face whatever the world would throw at him.

Or so he thought.

From the entrance of his doorway, he spotted detective Olivia Benson in his office, leaning against his desk, impatiently waiting for his arrival.

Mike frowned.

Not because it was Benson, but because there was only one person who should be leaning or sitting on his desk.

He recalled the way Connie used to possessively occupy his desk that way, occasionally holding one of his baseballs in her hand. When Connie did it back when, he welcomed it. The gesture had always seemed so natural and somehow intimately familiar.

And he certainly didn't feel that way about Benson.

"Detective…" he greeted coolly, as he placed his coffee and briefcase on his desk, "No need to lean on my desk like that…_please_, take a seat.._._ "

Olivia watched him warily. His irritable tone seemed to indicate that he was not happy about something this morning.

She took a seat, "did we somehow get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, Mike?"

"Not at all, " Mike recovered as he glanced at his schedule for today, "It's just that it will be a very busy morning for me."

"I'm not exactly here to play checkers, Mike," Olivia rebounded, wondering what his problem was, "The reason why I'm here is that, I wanted to talk about…"

Mike's BlackBerry suddenly buzzed.

At first Mike ignored it as he gave his attention fully to the detective.

It continued to buzz.

Olivia let out a frustrated groan.

"You going to get that, Mike? Because it's irritating the hell out of me."

Mike lifted his index finger in a "wait" gesture.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I'm expecting a call from Casey regarding an appointed court date."

He picked up his BlackBerry and his eyes went wide at the lit ID screen.

It stated that the call originated from Los Angeles.

Los Angeles.

_Connie, _he thought immediately.

Everything seemed to fade in the background as Mike's heart gave an extra big thump.

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	3. Chapter 3

The victim

Chapter 3

Connie's work schedule was already overloaded, yet she insisted on walking out of DA Hardin's office with the Paige Smith file in her hand despite protestations from him. As it was, she was already working the weekends due to the difficult Hendricks case.

The idea of taking on another case had become moot, anyway, because Hardin's final decision was he would not be pressing forward with the Paige Smith matter.

But perhaps she could change her boss' mind.

Connie first needed to review the Smith file before she confronted him. The downside for her would be that if she were a success, this extra case would mean working through all her lunches, and perhaps losing an hour or two of sleep everyday.

But all that extra sacrifice would be worth it, in the name of justice.

Now she was beginning to sound like Mike.

_Mike_...she allowed herself to let her mind wander just a little. Thoughts of Mike swinging his bat or tossing his baseball whenever he needed to organize a case in his mind flit through her mind.

At those endearing moments, he always seemed younger and more approachable.

_Enough thoughts of him._

Connie paused when she reached the doorway of her office and glanced through the glass window.

She had a visitor.

It was a female.

As Connie viewed the back of the woman who sat in the visitor's chair. She hadn't recalled any appointments this morning. Connie entered her office and walked around to face the person.

"Hello," greeted Connie, putting on a smile, "May I-"

Connie gasped at the seated female, who was now smiling tentatively.

"Hello, Miss Rubirosa…do you remember me?"

Of all the people in the world, Connie had not expected someone from her past in New York to suddenly pop up in Los Angeles.

Sitting across from her was Paige Regan.

The same Paige Regan who, back in New York, had been slated to testify against her boss, Burt Rainey for murdering another co-worker. This case eventually led to the arrest and conviction of defense lawyer Marcus Woll.

Connie could see that time had not been kind to the young female. Gone was the naïve girl from New Jersey and in her place sat a street-wise woman with unevenly dyed blonde hair and cheap, tight clothes.

Paige looked to have aged ten years.

As Connie sat behind her desk, she gave Paige an encouraging smile, "Of course, I remember you, Paige! How are you?"

Paige sat back and gave Connie a sad, wistful expression.

"To be perfectly honestly, Miss Rubirosa, it's been a rough year and a half," she answered, "The economy went bad, and for an uneducated girl like me…well, I gotta do what I can do, right?"

Connie nodded while looking down at the file labeled with the name "Paige Smith" She made the connection that the exotic dancer Paige Smith on file and the visitor Paige Regan in front of her must be one of the same.

"I came here to press rape charges." Paige bluntly announced. She pushed her shoulders back, attempting to appear brave. She followed Connie's eyes, "Is that my file you have there?

"Yes," Connie replied truthfully, "But with the different last name, it hadn't occurred to me that the victim was specifically you, Paige. I'm so sorry to hear about what had happened to you."

"Yeah," explained Paige ruefully, "I relocated here with a new last name, thinking I could get a fresh start out here; you know?" She let out a big sigh, "But, as you can see, life didn't turn out exactly as I expected…"

Paige tried to blink back tears.

Connie retrieved a box of Kleenex from her desk and extended it out to the sullen woman. Paige took two sheets and dabbed her eyes.

"You did the right thing to come here." Connie's voice was tinged with empathy, "It must have not been easy for you."

Paige nodded several times, "At first, I-I tried to let go of that awful night, because, like, people wouldn't believe me anyway... because...I dance for a living, you know what I mean?"

"Don't think like that, Paige." insisted Connie gently, "...Your profession has nothing to do with what happened to you. It was a violent attack and those brutes will have to pay!"

"...and you think people are gonna believe a _stripper_?," Paige looked doubtful as her voice trailed off, "I think everyone will think I had it coming..."

"Stop thinking like that, " Connie compelled, "_**I**_ believe you, and if I believe you, others will, too. You did not give your consent. It was a brave thing you did to step forward. It's the beginning to making yourself whole again…."

"That's what I thought, " Paige nodded, "but when I reported it at the police station, nothing happened, so I came to the DA's office to personally get the ball rolling. And then, as luck would have it, I was so happy when I saw your name on the directory list...what are the chances of that?...Anyway, I remembered a year and a half ago, how kind you were in the hotel room…"

Connie gave a comforting smile.

"I'm touched, Paige, that you even remember me."

"What about you? You've ever been assaulted like that before, Miss Rubirosa?" interrupted Paige suddenly.

The switch in conversation threw Connie off, "Uh...No, not really, however..."

"Well, let me tell you, Miss Rubirosa, what happens afterwards is a joke!" Paige tried to explain, "You have to tell the story to one person, and then another, and just when you are sick and tired of telling the story, they pass you on to _another_ person! It's like they're saying, let it be someone else's problem..."

"Paige," insisted Connie emphatically, "everyone has to go through various people and agencies in order to press charges. That's just the way the system works."

"Passing the buck is more like it, " concluded Paige, "and you should see the way they look at me after they find out I dance...they look at me like they've just wasted their entire afternoon!"

"I'm not going to lie to you," agreed Connie, "It's a trying process and there will always be people who will doubt your word, but not because of your profession."

"My God, I'm so tired of all this already, " Paige looked defeated, "I just wanna go home!"

"Paige, again, I'm sorry that you had to face this alone…" comforted Connie, "but I assure you, you are not alone anymore."

Those words seem to give Paige new hope.

"That's true, isn't it?" she smiled for the first time,"I have you in my corner now! So, Miss Rubirosa...do you think you can help me file the charges, like, today?"

She looked anxiously at Connie.

Connie felt twinges of guilt, not knowing how she was going to explain the situation.

"Well, um...actually, Paige, there's been a...delay in the filing..."

Paige expression changed. Her mouth tightened as she knew exactly what Connie was implying.

"So I was right all along," Paige stated grimly, as her voice got louder at the end, "Everyone thinks strippers deserve it, don't they? That..._that I'm no better than trash_!"

"Paige, we are not filing charges _now_, but I will do whatever…"

"I knew it! I _knew it_!" she frustratingly interrupted Connie.

New tears started to surface in Paige's eyes. Connie started to reach out and comfort Paige, but before she could, they heard the arrival of new footsteps.

"_Miss_ Rubirosa!" bellowed a male's voice from the doorway. Both ladies looked up. Only Connie recognized Jonah Dekker, her boss.

Connie introduced Paige to Joe, but Joe didn't seem to care that he was interrupting a conversation.

"Have we closed the Hendricks case yet?" he brusquely asked, "did you attend his sentencing?"

Connie didn't need to check her notes, "Yes, the hearing was held yesterday afternoon. Since Hendricks pleaded guilty to the abduction of the victim, he was sentenced to 22 years and his accomplice awaits sentencing."

Joe shook his head, "Dammit! I _knew_ we shouldn't have allowed that motion to sever ties between defense counsels! I just want this entire matter closed!"

"_Joe,_ " Connie stated his name in an exasperated tone, "Can we talk about this_later_? As you can see, I am conferring with a possible client now."

It was as if Joe was seeing Paige for the first time as he glared at the young woman.

"Wait...The name was Paige Regan, you say?" Joe asked, now recalling the introducitions, "I heard Jerry saying we weren't filing the charges, right?" he steamrolled on when he got no reaction from Connie, "_Now..._ can we get on to talk about the Langley case? I want to charge him with man one for the reckless…"

He was interrupted by Paige's outburst.

"_Oh_ _God!__**Why**__did I even come here?…."_

She looked helplessly at Connie before she jumped up and ran out of her office. Connie was yelling to the backside of Paige.

"Paige, wait!"

Connie attempted to dash after her. but Dekker blocked her at the doorway.

"Connie, you can forget about her, it's a _no-win_case for this office! I know it, you know it, Hardin knows it."

"Joe! How could you treat her like that?" accused Connie, "she is a _person!_Just like anyone else!"

"Dammit, Connie!" Joe countered, "Are we going to have to talk about this _again_? You can't take these cases personally! We don't have time for this save-the-world attitude! We are swamped with cases and can only do what we can do! So have a seat…if you still are interested in your job, that is."

It was a veiled threat. Connie had no choice but to relent, thinking that she could call Paige at her home later on after work.

_If_ she gets home at a decent hour, that is. And that's a mighty big _if_. Connie had a feeling Joe was going to keep her in the office very late.

.

.

Paige Regan ran as quickly as she could out the DA's office. Her heart pounding, she rounded the side of the building before she allowed herself to stop. Heaving hard to get as much oxygen back in her lungs, she flattened her back against the wall.

As she shut her eyes, a tear managed to squeeze out and run down her cheek.

Those b*stards were getting away with it! she screamed in her head. The lesson she learned from all this was that money and power would always win out.

She opened her eyes and looked up at the clear blue skies, wondering how the world could look so beautiful up there and yet so ugly down here.

Suddenly the words of Miss Rubirosa's came flooding back to Paige's mind:

_You did not give your consent. It was a brave thing you did to step forward. It's the beginning to making yourself whole again…._

Yes, Paige held her head up high, she needed to begin the healing process. She wasn't as dumb as some people thought! Her hands were shaking as she nervously fished out her cell phone from her purse. Taking a deep breath in, she determinedly called information.

"Yes, "Paige replied when information came on. She somehow managed to keep her voice from shaking,"I'd like to place a direct call to a…Michael..um …_Cutter_ …yes...a Michael Cutter of the District Attorney's Office in New York City, please...What? A new office? Yes, transfer me there, then...yes...I'll hold..."

.

.

Mike Cutter was in his office with Detective Olivia Benson sitting impatiently across from him. He had intended to let the call from his BlackBerry go to voice mail until he realized the call was coming from Los Angeles.

Olivia watched as his expression turned from surprise to anticipatory pleasure as he read the screen ID and picked up the call.

Then his expression fell when the other person on the other side spoke.

When Mike had read the location of _Los Angeles_ on the screen of his BlackBerry, he had assumed it would be Connie, being that he did not know anyone else who lived out on the West Coast.

But , unfortunately, he had been wrong.

"Yes, of course I remember you, Miss Regan…" he began, working to hide his disappointment.

Olivia watched as a scowl developed on his face the longer he listened.

"Yes...uh-huh...I am so sorry to hear that..." as he spoke, he looked up, aware that Olivia was eyeing him, "...hold on, Miss Regan, yes..yes..."

He put the call on hold and Olivia knew what he would say next. She would have to wait outside until he finished the call, then he would talk to her.

"Don't tell me," stated Olivia evenly, "This call is important and you'll talk about my case later."

"Actually," Mike stated in a low voice, "I won't be talking to you _at all_ about your case; you'll have to take it up with the District Attorney. Looks like I'll be flying out to LA..."

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_(Thank you for all the kind reviews...I am truly touched and overwhelmed!)_


	4. Chapter 4

A visitor

Chapter 4

The Next Day

It was lunchtime and Connie Rubirosa was once again looking over a case file. All around her, she could feel the office slowly emptying. She looked up as her two work friends now hovered over her desk, trying to convince her to join them for lunch.

"Come on, Connie!" encouraged Lizbeth, "It'll be fun!"

"Yeah, Con! " joined in Heather, a paralegal, "you haven't been out for lunch all week!"

With the week Connie had been having, the lunch invitation did sound tempting.

She had been so disappointed over losing the opportunity to try the Paige Regan case, that originally she had decided to push forward with her other cases, even working through lunch. Now at the prospect of talking gossip and eating hot food from a restaurant, her spirits lifted.

Why not? She thought, everyone deserves a break from the routine.

"That sounds great! Thanks ladies!" she smiled amidst the simple cheers from her two friends.

She opened her desk drawer to get her purse as Lizbeth and Heather continued jabbering next to her.

Yes, Connie convinced herself, as she slammed her drawer and stood, ready for lunch, she certainly deserved this!

.

District Attorney Jerry Hardin gazed out his windowed office to look at his workers breaking for lunch. They showed exuberance on their faces as they happily hustled out of their cubicles, glad to take a break from the relentless workload that continually inundated the office.

The busy hum of the office dissipated as more bodies left the confines of the workspace.

He couldn't help but watch with fascination as his newest prosecutor, Connie Rubirosa, got up from her desk and joined the two other associates, talking and laughing harmoniously as they left for lunch.

Jerry shook his head while grinning to himself, as he tried to concentrate on the papers in front of him.

Connie Rubirosa.

He had met some classy women in his day, but _that_ woman was in a category all by herself. Not only did she have the looks of an angel, she had the legal mind and tenacity to be one of his best prosecutors ever.

And just for a second, he allowed his mind to wander into the impossible. He pictured himself at his next boring political function with Connie hanging on his arm, looking stately and elegant. She would charm the entire room with her wit, beauty and intelligence. His contemporaries would be crawling all over themselves just to have her look their way.

If only he were 25 years younger, he wistfully sighed.

But he wasn't. That was life and the reality of it was that his office had lucked out when she came to work here. Connie Rubirosa was a bright, hardworking prosecutor, willing to put in the long hours required for this job. She definitely had a future here.

And he would do anything to keep her in Los Angeles.

"District Attorney Jerry Hardin?"

An unrecognizable male voice interrupted his thoughts.

Bringing his attention to the present, Hardin looked up towards his office doorway, his sharp mind now focused on the distinguished-looking male who was at his doorway.

Jerry Hardin prided himself on being about to spot another lawyer a million miles away. Even in regular street clothing, the unknown visitor had "attorney" stamped all over him. Of course, it also helped that this individual stood imposingly confident while holding a leatherbound briefcase.

Jerry could tell that this stranger was a force to be reckon with.

"Yes?"

Mike strode in, while at the same time, reaching out his hand.

"I'm Mike Cutter."

Jerry slightly furrowed his brow at the sound of the name, Mike _Cutter._

Where had he heard that name before?

Hardin diplomatically stood up, reached over his desk and shook the visitor's hand before gesturing for Cutter to sit down.

"Yes, …and what can I do for you, uh, Mr. Cutter?"

Hardin sat back down and noted how Cutter sank with ease in the seat.

Then Cutter focused a level gaze at him.

"To put it as succinctly as possible, Mr. Hardin, I've come to take over the Paige Regan case," Mike explained, "Yesterday, I was informed no formal charges would be filed from this office, so I flew over from my New York office immediately in hopes of personally bringing this to trial."

.._.from New York_? Something in Jerry's mind clicked.

Yes, of course! _Now_ Jerry knew the name! _That_Mike Cutter, the Executive Assistant District Attorney from New York City. _Connie's former boss._

But wait... did Hardin hear correctly? Did Cutter just announce that he was here to take over one of Jerry's cases?

Preposterous! _That's_ something that would never happen...

"I'm sorry you had made such a long trip over here in vain," said Hardin in a dismissive tone, "but our office has already made the decision not to file and that is our final decision."

"Perhaps you shouldn't have been so hasty," suggested Mike, in an assured manner, "I think we have a case here, so I plan to file charges on behalf of your office."

_What?_ Jerry Hardin shot a look of disdain at the man sitting across from him.

Who did this underling think he was, to come in and place demands on the District Attorney of Los Angeles! The very idea made him feel like exploding.

"The hell you say!" objected Hardin.

"No need to feel threatened, Mr. Hardin, " stated Mike, "It's not like I'm pulling rank on you."

The tension in the air was palpable.

"But that is _exactly_ what you are doing!" insisted Hardin, "How _dare_ you come from out of state and tell me what you plan to do here without getting my approval first! I am the _elected District Attorney for all of Los Angeles_! And you... Mr. Cutter... _you_... are merely a prosecutor from another state, and have absolutely no standing here _whatsoever_!"

"Since job titles seem so important to you, let me inform _you_ of something!" stated Mike emphatically, "I am actually the Bureau Chief of the Special Victims Unit in New York, and therefore, technically, that would put you and _me_ at the same level!"

Leaning forward in his chair, Hardin balled up one fist and pounded it on his desk.

"Same level, _my foot!_" Hardin blasted back,"Listen, this is MY domain! You don't come in here and take over one of my cases! That is NOT happening!...And need I remind you, Cutter, that you have absolutely no authority to practice law here!"

Humph! That should put Cutter in his place! Hardin thought.

"There are two points I would like to make, Mr. Hardin," Mike kept his voice controlled, "Number one, You had not planned on bringing about charges, so in theory, I will NOT be taking over one of your cases; And number two…"

Mike opened his case and brought out a five- page stapled pile of papers. He reached forward and flung it on Hardin's desk.

"…I've already filed a _pro hac vice_, which in summary states that I may temporarily prosecute a case in a different state as long as my credentials from my home state are updated and valid. Which it is. In addition, with this being a special victim's case, I believe my expertise will be invaluable to this particular case. Go ahead and look through the papers... _Pro hac vice_; it's all signed and legally documented."

"_Christ!_ You don't need to define a legal term for me!" exclaimed Hardin, "I know _exactly_ what a _pro hac vice_ is, Cutter! I'm no first year law student!"

Hardin grabbed the papers and aggressively flipped the pages, looking for the appropriate signatures.

"Then you can see that everything is in order…so, if I may have the file, please," asked Mike politely.

Hardin worked to keep his temper in place. He certainly did not want to hand the file over to this...this..._outsider_, but Cutter had him over a barrel. Hardin sat back with a look of defeat. He threw down the stapled papers disgustedly on his desk.

Hardin knew he needed to calm down. His many years of experience told him nothing was worth getting all worked up over. He rubbed his forehead until his anger abated. Gone was the irritable tone when he next addressed Mike.

"I gave the file to my DDA... " he relented, with a brush of his hand, "You know her, Connie Rubirosa."

Hardin did a double take when he looked over for Cutter's reaction. He thought he caught a glint in Mike's eyes at the mention of Connie's name.

_What the hell_? Did those two have something going on when she worked over there in New York? he wondered to himself. Hardin's eyes narrowed at his new unwanted, unnecessary, temporary prosecutor.

Somehow, Hardin concluded, he had a feeling that the operation of his efficient office just hit a snag.

.

.

Connie was glad she had gone out to lunch. She felt refreshed and relaxed as she and her two office mates returned back to the office.

"…And Connie," said Lizbeth, excitedly as she crowded closer to Connie while they walked down the office aisle, "Did you see how the guy at the bar was eyeing you?"

"Major cute factor! "agreed Heather, "I mean, he was a real hottie!"

Connie smiled weakly, "You two know I am too busy to even _think_ of having a relationship now!"

"That's just an excuse, Connie, and you know it!" stated Heather.

"Heather's right, you know. You need to get out there, Connie!" insisted Lizbeth.

Heather sighed, "Is it really too much, world, to ask for a rich, good looking man?

"...maybe not the _rich_ part so much," countered Lizbeth, "but let him be intelligent, with, oh I don't know...with gorgeous, sparkling eyes..."

"Oooh, sparkling eyes, " giggled Heather, "and don't forget he should be debonair and..."

Heather jabbered on with her wish list requirements for a man as the three approached Connie's office.

"God, Con! "continued on Heather, "With your looks, you should have guys crawling all over you! But first, you gotta let guys know you're available! It's like you haven't gone out on a date since you've been to LA... don't you think it's about time?"

Heather could be a little man-crazy, but she did have a point.

"Well, that would be nice except I just don't know any men I find attractive!" countered Connie, breezily, "Maybe there just isn't a man for m-"

Entering her office, Connie suddenly stopped midstep and made an audible gasp. Her two friends, not expecting Connie's halted step, almost ran right into her. But Connie wasn't even aware of the close call.

For there in the visitor's chair of her office sat Michael Cutter.

The sight of Mike was unexpectedly startling. He looked boyishly handsome in his everyday clothes, a coat slung over his two clasped arms that he held in front of him, his briefcase resting to the side of him.

He slowly rose from the chair as the three women entered her office, but his blue eyes were only focused intently on Connie.

Connie heard Heather's under-her-breath response to her new visitor.

"Wow!"

That word said it all for Connie as she stared at him, riveted.

It had been over a year since they had seen each other.

Mike's had earlier witnessed Connie strolling down the aisle, looking fresh and happy. She truly was like a breath of fresh air had blown in. As she stood before him now, he realized she wasn't nearly as beautiful as he remembered.

She was even more so.

Connie's hair had grown out and softly framed her face in shimmering auburn waves. Her elegant cheekbones looked flushed and her lips appeared sensually full. And then there were her eyes. Her exquisite eyes were looking at him as if she could read what he felt in his heart.

At the same time, Connie observed Mike. _Warm_ and _inviting_ were two words that came to her mind. With his casual cozy, layered clothes, he looked as though he should be at home snuggled up to a good book. And once again, she was looking into the all-too-familiar devilment sparkle of his deep blue eyes.

She drew in a deep breath, hoping it would calm the rushing in her ears, the mad pulsing flutter in her throat.

And from his office, Jerry Hardin had witnessed it all.

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_Please review_


	5. Chapter 5

The Reunion

Chapter 5

Connie could not believe it.

She could barely breathe. Mike was _here_; here in Los Angeles!

Her heart lurched at the sight of him and she worked at not blinking in a spasm of astonishment.

The unexpected presence of Mike Cutter caused a wonderful sensation to soothe over her, rather like the feeling of sinking into a hot bath after a gray winter day.

The feeling remained as Connie stared into the dreamy blues of his eyes. She could feel her cheeks warming as she tried to stop her inner flutterings. With the intense gaze he was flicking her way, it made it difficult for her to maintain a level of composure.

Mike, too, was just as mesmerized as he continued to look at her with his keen blue eyes. Her captivating expression was so open, so inviting, that he could not seem to look away.

_"Ahem"_

Beyond them, someone cleared her throat.

"_Connie_," Lizbeth broke into her thoughts, "aren't you going to introduce us to your …_friend?_"

"Yeah," agreed Heather, "where have you been hiding _him_?"

Lizbeth and Heather seemed to be gawking as Mike held a playful glint in his eyes while observing the two co-workers.

Connie was flooded with embarrassment as she realized she and Mike were not the only ones in the room. She turned to her two friends.

"Oh, of course!" Connie apologized, as she recited the two women's names to Mike, and then ended the introduction with"…and this is my former boss, Mike Cutter, from New York…"

Both her friends turned to look at her with stunned faces.

"Mike_ Cutter_?" Lizbeth repeated breathlessly, obviously recognizing the name.

"_This_ is your ex-boss?" added Heather.

The corners of Mike's mouth twitched with irrepressible amusement.

"You two ladies are scaring me now," he stated, "and Connie... what exactly have you been saying about me?"

"It's not what she _said _necessarily," Heather's eyes were wide, "it's what she _didn't_ say about you!"

Lizbeth immediately elbowed her.

The situation would have almost been comical, had it not been for the fact that Connie just finished saying she didn't know any attractive men. Connie knew that after this, her friends would not let go of the fact that she had never mentioned Mike.

And why _hadn't_ she mentioned Mike before? she pondered. After all, she certainly _thought_ about him enough.

"Nice to meet you." Lizbeth was the first to recover as she smiled at Mike, "You'll have to excuse my friend. She works under a rock and rarely gets to see any men outside of this office."

"...Or at least I rarely get to see the _right_ men," Heather flirted, as she asked Mike, "...so I gotta know...are there more prosecutors like _you_ back East, Mr. Cutter?"

Connie winced for her friend, but Mike, fortunately, seemed to take it all in stride.

'"I'm sure Connie will say she'd hope not! " Mike managed to keep a straight face, "but in answer to your question about lawyers in New York, they are just like here in LA...they come in all different shapes, sizes, intellect, and integrity!"

"Oh _my_...and witty, too," Lizbeth lightly responded, as she shook Mike's hand.

Although Connie's face felt hot, she somehow managed to maintain a perfectly bland expression as Heather turned to Mike.

"All I can say," stated Heather, almost breathlessly, as she stuck out her hand to Mike, "is that when it's time for _my_ bar exam, I'm heading out to New York City!"

There seemed to be a mischievous sparkle in Mike's eyes, "…and when you _do_ visit New York, Heather, I have no doubt you will bring beauty and the sunshine along with you!"

Connie had to work at not rolling her eyes. His last statement had impressed Lizbeth and made Heather swoon. They furtively gave Connie a look that read '_he's-too-good-to-be-true!'_

It seemed the Cutter charm was in full force today.

His lighthearted manner, however, did not dispel his attentiveness towards Connie as he turned to focus back on her. As she met his intense gaze, Connie felt a disturbing sense of intimacy that seemed to have blossomed in the air, and it scared and thrilled her at the same time.

Her heart was beating so fast it made her dizzy.

Taking in the entire situation, Lizbeth wisely concluded that it was best that she and her friend leave.

"Come on, Heather, " said Lizbeth, grabbing onto her arm, "let's go."

"..._What?_ _Now_?" Heather never took her eyes off Mike as she felt Lizbeth grab her arm.

"We need to get back to work..but it was very nice meeting you, Mr. Cutter," Lizbeth said to Mike.

He tore his gaze away from Connie for a second to bid adieu to the two friends. Heather seemed to stumble along as Lizbeth dragged her reluctant friend away.

"_Alright, sheesh!_..._I'm coming, Lizzie_! " Heather said to her friend, as she tried to give Mike her brightest smile, "...and...I hope to see _you_ later, Mr. Cutter!"

They were almost to the door and just for a second, everyone in the room feared Heather would grab onto the doorway in order to get her last peek at him.

"Just call me 'Mike'!" he almost shouted towards the exit door before the two women disappeared from Connie's office.

Alone at last, Connie immediately noticed the wicked glimmer in Mike's eyes.

"Your friends," he commented, with a wry smile, "are certainly..._different_."

Connie, too, had not expected that reaction from them.

"It's just fortunate that I'm here, Mike, " jested Connie, "then I could protect you against the crowd of admirers!"

Mike made a noncommittal sound, "Me? With admirers? That'll be the day!"

But Connie was barely aware of his responding comment, so enthralled was she that he had somehow made it to LA. All these months she had been thinking of him and now he was _here_, she mused, as a sweet ache formed inside of her.

Meanwhile, Mike breathed in deeply, the air in his lungs feeling free and relaxed at last. Seeing Connie again soothed away the empty ache he had been feeling every night for the past year.

"New York hasn't been the same without you," Mike admitted softly.

Connie's heart was pounding so hard that she could feel it down to her toes. Her mind was veering wildly between confusion and happiness at his words.

_Was he implying that his arrival in Los Angeles concerned **her?**_

He basically declared that he had missed her. Connie tried to calm her nerves.

"Is that why you're here, Mike?" she asked.

Mike had been expecting that question, yet he had no answer for it.

He wanted to tell her that _she_ was the reason he flew out here, that he had never stopped thinking about her, but how could he let her know how deep his feelings went? After all, back in New York, they had only a comfortable _working_ relationship. She was his colleague, not his lover, he had once told Jack.

Or at least, he thought that was how it was. However, if they had been merely co-workers, then why was it so difficult to tell her he was here on a case?

Maybe it was because of the way her lovely eyes filled with hope when she asked that question.

Connie's heart thundered in anticipation, feeling as though she may topple over if he didn't respond soon. She did not understand the hesitancy in his response.

"My purpose for being in L.A? ," he spoke at last, "the truth is…"

They were interrupted by a knock on Connie's opened door.

Both turned to see Jerry Hardin stride in. He appeared all businesslike as he approached them.

"I see you two are getting re-acquainted," he brusquely remarked, as he addressed Mike, "So...did Connie hand over to you the Paige Smith -or should I now say- the Paige _Regan_ file yet?"

A look of incredulity crossed her face at Hardin's words.

_"What_?" Connie thought she heard wrong.

"All this time in here and you didn't tell her, Cutter?" Hardin tsked, "Unlike how you may run your office in New York, we don't spend our afternoons on idle chit-chat. This is a working office!"

Connie's expressive face clearly registered her conflicting emotions, as she turned back and eyed Mike. She felt the bottom falling from underneath her.

"T-the Paige Regan file?"

Mike let out a frustrated breath. _Damn Hardin._ This was not how he wanted Connie to find out.

"Connie, let me explain...I-I got a call in New York from Paige Regan," he found himself speaking fast, "she told me how the LA office refused to prosecute her case, and I felt we owed her…"

He wanted to explain better, but with Hardin crowding him, it was difficult.

Connie pursed her lips tightly.

"So, Mike, let me get this straight, "Connie restated, "You came all the way out here to take away _my_ case?"

Her eyes narrowed in accusation as she noted Mike's hesitation. So the reason he was in LA had nothing to do with her.

When Mike looked at her face, he surprisingly didn't see anger or confusion in her eyes. He saw something worse…he saw…disappointment.

Meanwhile DA Hardin regarded both of them with avid curiosity as to what exactly was happening between the two. It hardly looked like two prosecutors passing a case around. He once again wondered if something had occurred between them back in New York.

Whatever it was, Hardin rather liked the disturbing tension between the two of them now.

"No, Connie," Mike was saying to her, "it's not like that! I didn't even know about your involvement in the case.."

"But surely you must have known that _someone_ would be responsible for the case here?" Connie pointed out.

"But Paige said that this office had decided not to prosecute; that's why she called me, so I thought..." began Mike

But Connie had heard enough. She _got_ it! Enough with the humiliation!

"You don't need to explain further, Mike," stated Connie coldly, "Obviously, this is _your_ case, not mine!"

Looking down and quickly locating the Paige Regan file on her organized desk, Connie grabbed it off her desk.

"Here!" she bristled as she held the folder out to him, "You'll find all the papers you need to proceed on with the case! Now if you excuse me, I have plenty of work to do!"

Mike wordlessly accept the file while he viewed Connie with a regretful look.

Ignoring the two men in the room, Connie plopped herself at her desk and proceeded to pull out a different file. Her lips thinned and her body remained rigid while she stared down at the open folder's contents.

Mike noticed a frown had marred the smoothness of her brow as she read.

And then he wondered, how had such a promising start in Connie's office today end like this?

He wanted to tease and banter with her, like they had done in the past. He wanted to make her aware of him in the same way that he had always been aware of her.

But this would not be the time.

He knew if he said anything to her, she would retaliate with harsh words or simply ignore him. No, best to let her cool down and perhaps they could talk at a later time.

He glanced discreetly over at her, but she would not look up, would not acknowledge him. Glancing down at the Paige Regan file in his hand, Mike's expression was regretful as he spoke to her.

"Connie, let me just say this before I go...there have been only a handful of times in my life when I have been sorry to have gotten my way. This is one of them. I'm just so sorry we didn't get to talk more."

It was rare to hear a Mike Cutter apology.

For a split second when Connie heard the words, her heart softened. Any other time, his speech would have melted a glacier, but now it only strengthened her resolve.

Connie looked up at him, her jaw set.

In her small, lit office, every detail of his face was vivid. His gaze was filled with so much hurt, it was hard to look at him. Then she felt infuriated by her own reaction to him. To her, it showed a sign of her own weakness; after all, she was hurting, too!

"Good bye, Mike," she announced, trying to keep her voice from trembling," and good luck with _your_ case."

She then reached for one of the inconsequential papers on her desk and crumpled it into a ball, before she threw it roughly into the wastepaper basket. The gesture had been intended to banish the tenseness in the room as well as appease her frustration, but it did neither.

The atmosphere remained heavy and electric, like the quietude that occurred just before a lightening storm.

"Cutter," DA Hardin gestured with his head towards the door, "You've got a case to file...I think you're done here..."

Hardin's comment cut short anything else that might be said between Connie and him.

Mike could do nothing but leave. He headed out.

At the doorway, Mike paused and turned around. Connie pretended to be absorbed in her work. He had no option but to leave. Hardin followed after him, a satisfied smile on his lips.

Only when she heard the sounds of their footsteps echoing in the hallway did Connie manage to glance up towards the empty doorway.

In all her dreams, her fantasies, her wishes, this was not how she envisioned their reunion at all.

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_Please review._


	6. Chapter 6

A morning meeting

Chapter 6

The next morning, Mike had arrived early in the office. He had set up an appointment to talk with Paige Regan.

Mike was sure that DA Hardin had it out for him, although he couldn't quite figure out why. He theorized that Hardin probably did not appreciate an outside source taking over one of his local cases, although, technically, charges would not have been filed had Mike not been involved.

But that point seemed moot to Hardin.

The idea that Hardin harbored bad feelings was later confirmed when Hardin deliberately situated Mike in a distant small desk away from the other prosecutors. It was in an opened area mostly reserved for paralegals or law clerks.

Obviously, Hardin was trying to make a statement about how he felt about Mike's status in the Los Angeles DA's office.

Mike just basically shrugged it off.

Location was of no matter to him. He didn't require a private office or a large desk. Just give him a desk with Wi-Fi access and he was good to go.

Meanwhile, at exactly 7am, Connie had just arrived at her office.

As she placed her purse on her desk, she pretended to be casually looking around at the scattered number of early risers at their desks, but in reality, her eagle eyes were only watching out for one person.

And he was there.

She spotted Mike on the other side of the room, at one of the smaller desks. Serves him right for taking away a case she was to be lead attorney on, she thought. Let the great Mike Cutter sit with the law clerks!

But Connie truly did not feel that way.

She was just ...hurting. Yesterday she had been caught off-guard at his presence. She recalled how her heart had changed rhythm at the sight of him in her office. The rest of the time was spent trying to think beyond her heart's rapid thundering.

And during that awkward time she had allowed herself to think, just _think_ that he might have been here to see her, that he had plans to _whisk_ her back to New York.

Even to herself, it sounded ridiculous. She needed to stop thinking of the fairy tale ending.

But like romantics everywhere, Connie dreamed someday of giving her heart to someone, of someday falling in love. But somehow the opportunity never presented itself in her life. She sometimes wondered if she would remain alone for the rest of her life, if she would ever find someone who could measure up to Mi…

No, _no_, _STOP._..she did not want to reach the end of that thought! Plus, wasn't she supposed to be upset with him for taking away _her_ case? Wasn't that why she had lashed out yesterday?

She wasn't sure _why_ she had been so upset yesterday. Yesterday had been one long emotional roller coaster ride.

Connie couldn't keep her eyes from darting over to Mike, busily working at his humbled desk. She thought of going over there, of greeting him, and then saying what?

No, her pride wouldn't allow it.

She finally sat down at her desk and put her purse in her drawer. There was much work to be done, but she yearned for just one more look.

While seated, Connie angled her body slightly right to get an unobstructed view. Through her office window, she saw Heather approaching Mike, an enthusiastic smile on her face. Mike was now laughing at something Heather was saying...

"If you lean any further, you'll soon be lying prone on your desk..."

Connie had been so immersed in what was happening outside her office, she had not realized Joe Dekker standing in her office.

A flush rose all the way to her cheeks as Dekker approached her desk.

Connie cleared her throat, as she busily began straightening papers on her desk.

"Joe," Connie acknowledged, unable to look at him just yet.

That was about the extent of their greetings. For the entire time she had known DDA Decker, they had never bothered with friendly salutations.

She hoped he hadn't noticed why she was staring out her window.

No such luck. Dekker came over to take a look out of her office and snorted when he spotted Mike.

"Cutter." He seethed, with loathing in his voice, "Hardin told me how he came blowing in here like the Santa Ana winds yesterday, demanding to take over one of our cases!"

Connie tried to appear nonchalant as she continued to organize her desk, " I heard that, too..."

"Cutter was _always_ too arrogant for his own good!" There was disdain in his tone.

Connie stopped her movements to look up at him. His last remark almost made Connie want to defend Mike.

Almost.

"Is there a reason why you're at my desk so early in the morning, Joe?" Connie asked, wanting to divert attention away from the subject of Mike.

"How's the Cooper trial coming along?" he asked, somewhat impatiently.

"Well, I'm readying the paperwork for the trial this afternoon," Connie explained pulling out the file, "On their schedule, the defense plans to first call 16-year-old eyewitness Matthew Marks to the stand to provide a description of the gunman who supposedly will not match their man, Cooper."

"So we break down the kid's credibility," stated Dekker, "that'll be easy to do. When I'm done with my cross examination of him, little Mattie won't be able to disitinguish his left foot from his right foot."

"I don't know, Joe," Connie sounded doubtful, "Jurists _hate_ prosecutors who browbeat kids through intimidation."

Joe peered over at Connie. Theirs had never been a harmonious legal partnership. It always seemed that when he zigged, she zagged.

"So you expect me to handle him with kid gloves, just because he's a kid? You can forget _that_ strategy! I intend to nail that b*stard, Cooper, _to the wall _and I'll gladly demolish anyone who stands in the way of that!" Joe exclaimed.

Connie could feel a headache coming on.

First she had to deal with the defense attorney on the Paige Regan case, then deal with her feelings seeing Mike after a year's separation, and now deal with an argumentative Dekker on a case. It seemed as though she went from one trying situation to the next.

"I just think there is another tactic we can use besides picking on a scared juvenile on the stand," Connie suggested.

Joe looked unconvinced.

"Oh, so _you_ have a better idea?" he asked sardonically, as he now took a seat next to her desk and folded his arms, "Go ahead...let's hear it."

Connie shuffled through the papers in the Cooper file, pulling out one to show Dekker.

"Let Matthew testify. At best, you might imply that he had been distracted with his Ipod. But we then move quickly on, show that his testimony is not of value. The defense's next witness will be Cooper himself. We can lessen the impact of Matthew's testimony by showing how Cooper lied to police, bring his credibility into question. He confessed to police that he shot the victim but later redacted and claimed he was hours away. I think we would be more successful breaking down his testimony than that of a young, inexperienced witness."

Joe listened, "I hear you, Connie…but I say we do both…I still think our cross examination of the boy needs to be extremely aggressive."

"Joe, I don't think—"

But Dekker was already up, "No, I've decided. We'll leave no stone unturned. That son-of-a-b*tch is going down for second -degree murder! See you in court this afternoon!"

And with not so much as a good bye, Joe Dekker got up and left Connie's office.

Once again, it was as if Joe did not take her suggestions seriously; she never seemed to contribute to a case. At least here in LA.

With a sigh, Connie picked up her coffee to calm her nerves. Her mug felt light in her hand and she slightly tilted it to view the inside.

Empty… oh of course it would be empty...she had just walked in..

_Had the day only begun?_

She already had a frustrating start to the morning and this afternoon did not look any more promising with having to sit through the defense side of the Cooper trial.

Connie got up to go to the breakroom to fill her coffee mug.

The little snack area was located in a small corner near the paralegal area. Though she knew she would pass Mike's desk, she avoided looking in that direction. She certainly did not need to deal with another awkward situation.

She entered the breakroom...and she tried to temper the leap in her heart.

Mike was there, although he was not aware of her presence yet.

He was standing next to the coffeemaker, reading the words on the coffee can. She initially thought she should hightail out of there, but she couldn't help watching him with interest as he painstakingly tried to decipher the instructions on the back of the can. A scowl had appeared on his face.

Alternately, he would look at the coffeepot, and then back to the instructions, and then back to the coffeepot.

Connie tried to hide a smile at his lack of knowledge with such a simple chore. His baffled attempt in making coffee softened her agitated feelings towards him.

Unexpectedly, he looked up and her breath caught. His startled expression showed that he was just as surprise to see her standing in front of him.

"Mike," she was the first to recover.

For a second Mike was staring at her as if she were speaking a foreign language. It seemed as if he were debating what to say to her. At last he gestured towards the coffeemaker.

"I know it's not rocket science, Connie, " he stated, looking puzzled, "but is there an _easy_ way I can get one single cup of coffee out of this contraption?"

He looked so helpless that Connie couldn't stop her eyes from sparkling with amusement as she walked over to him.

"First off, " Connie explained, "One must learn to identify appliances correctly. This is not called a contraption; it's known as a _coffeemaker_.."

"Ahhh, " Mike nodded understandably, "Cof-fee-mak-er...did I get all the syllables in the right order?"

Though she tried, Connie could not hide her smile.

"Well done, Mike...and as far as it not being rocket science," Connie empathized, "...it could seem that way, if a person had never made coffee before...allow me to show you the intricacies of this important morning routine."

She then reached over and flipped opened a nearby box to retrieve a singular coffee filter. Holding the item up so that Mike could clearly see it, she then placed the filter in the filter basket of the coffeemaker.

He nodded knowingly at the filter placement. Connie next pointed at the coffee can he held in his hand.

"May I?" she asked as she prudently took the coffee can from him.

His eyes were watching her intently.

She couldn't stop the prickling sensation as she sensed the nearness of him.

When she opened the lid of the coffee can, the smell of the fresh coffee grounds assailed their senses.

"Mmmm...doesn't that smell wonderful so early in the morning?," Connie asked as she took a whiff. She couldn't help the smile that came to her lips.

"..._absolutely_ wonderful..." restated Mike, although the implication seemed different.

Connie tried not to read too much into his statement. It was hard to keep her voice steady as she continued the instructions.

"Now, here is how to make an ideal cup of coffee," Connie explained, as she measured out the coffee grounds and put them in the filter, "The standard ratio is two tablespoons of coffee grounds for every six ounces of water you plan to brew."

He heard the words, but he was more aware of how close she was standing to him.

Watching her perform this simplest of chores had an effect on Mike. It somehow felt so homey, so domesticated. He again was reminded of how much he missed her daily presence back in New York.

"Let me get this straight," he pretended to look overwhelmed, "One filter? Two tablespoons? Six ounces? So I was right...it _is_ like rocket science!"

"Perhaps...now, it's vital you watch this next step, Mike," she feigned seriousness, "Control is all important here."

He observed as she wordlessly poured the measured water into the coffee maker.

"I _see_... " he half-joked as he peered over, "so...you must _pour_ the water_, _correct?"

"Yes," agreed Connie, "_Pour_ is the key word here; Remember, do not throw. Do not drop. _Pour_."

"And me without my notebook and pen, today!"

She was enjoying his company far too much. Connie was still smiling as she emptied the remainder of the water into the coffeepot.

She was almost done.

"Wait! Allow me to finish the task!" volunteered Mike.

He made a huge gesture of plugging the unit in and flipping the switch.

"Ta-dah!" he held his arms out like it had been an elaborate presentation, "Look at me...the Norman Einstein of the coffee world!"

Connie could not help the tiny laugh that escaped from her lips.

"_Norman_ Einstein, Mike?"

Instantly the coffeemaker started percolating and the familiar aroma of coffee began to drift invitingly throughout the room.

And for just a moment in time, they had enjoyed the pleasure of working as a team again.

"Can't start work without my coffee you know!" Mike commented, "For me, all that caffeine isn't a drug, it's a vitamin!"

"I agree," nodded Connie, "and don't forget, a morning without coffee...is sleep!"

The morning suddenly seemed so much brighter.

Mike proudly poured the first cup and handed it to a grateful Connie before he poured himself a cup.

"It's the start of a new day and we have deliciously brewed coffee now!," announced Mike, holding up his mug, "So let me be the first to bid you a lovely good morning, Connie!"

Along with the shared coffee, the cheery welcome helped to dissolve the remaining bitter feelings Connie had regarding Mike.

And knowing that this 'hello' would be the only one Connie would probably hear today, the cordial, personal greeting truly touched her.

Let him have the case, she acquiesced, there'll be others.

She happily took a sip of the perfectly brewed cup.

Connie would rather savor this private moment with Mike any day .

.

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_Please review_


	7. Chapter 7

The victim

Chapter 7

Mike took a sip of the freshly brewed coffee as he sat at his desk. As hard as he tried, he could not conceal the smile as he thought of his morning coffee interaction with Connie.

He loved watching her expressions. In fact, he loved all of Connie's little nuances, gestures that had been so familiar to him back in New York.

His musings of Connie were interrupted by the arrival of his client, Paige Regan.

Mike could not believe the change in her. From a naïve office clerk, she had now evolved into a street-wise woman who had obviously fallen on difficult times.

They exchanged greetings as Paige sat down in the chair opposite Mike.

"Thank you, Mr. Cutter, for taking my case," Paige kept her eyes downcast, as if she didn't deserve to be on equal standing with him, "When I first called you in New York, I just hoped you could make a few calls ...but instead, you're here! I can't, just can't_ believe_ it...for someone, like _me_…"

Her face was tinged with embarrassment.

Mike saddened at the path Paige Regan's life had taken. While in New York, she had put her trust in the legal system and it almost cost her life. Since then, everything that had happened to her was indirectly caused by the Marcus Woll case.

He was determined to help her.

With a year behind him working as Bureau Chief for SVU, Mike knew more than anyone, how a victim was never the same after a violent act such as rape. He tried to keep his feelings impersonal, but when he saw how far Paige had fallen from the last time he had seen her, his heart went out to her.

"Paige," said Mike, in all sincerity, "We are going to do everything possible to make sure you get the justice you deserve…_we are going to do right by you_…"

She finally looked up at him with a tentative smile.

"I don't know how to thank you for your kindness…."

"You can thank this office by stepping forward like you did and bravely facing your attackers…you are going to help not only yourself, but future victims as well, believe me."

Mike then started asking her questions pertaining to the case.

It was time to get down to work.

.

.

From her office, Connie was getting her own files ready to take to court.

Back in New York City, she and Mike used to go to court together as a united front. Dekker, however, had a whole different strategy worked out. He liked having a driver take him to the courthouse. That's how they did it in LA, he told her. It was all about status.

Connie would be driving herself in her blue Mustang to the courthouse. Right now, however, her mind was not on the impending case.

She was reliving with puzzlement with what had occurred in the breakroom between Mike and her. Earlier she had been upset with Mike for taking over the case and yet those feelings had simply evaporated because she had helped him make coffee.

What was it about him that always seemed to soften her heart?

_Focus_, she thought, she needed to think about the Cooper case at hand.

She was not looking forward to the long afternoon of testimony.

She stared straight ahead at her empty thermos on her desk.

Sighing, she looked at her watch. She was due at the courthouse soon. At the last minute she liked to fill up her thermos for the drive over to the courthouse.

On average, a person living in Los Angeles person spends a quarter of his or her life on the road. And like all LA motorists, drinking liquids and driving while hitting Sig-Alerts (any unplanned event that causes the closing of one lane of traffic for 30 minutes or more, a term unique to SoCal drivers) was all part of the commuting experience.

Grabbing her empty insulated container, she proceeded down the aisle. This time when she past by Mike's desk, she surreptitiously glanced over.

Paige Regan was seated with Mike. Paige seemed to be listening to some instructions he was giving her, probably prepping her for court.

By chance, Mike happened to look up and spotted her. He couldn't help but give Connie a long measuring stare, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm much faster than normal.

Her eyes also continued to watch him as she proceeded on. Connie's mouth went dry at the way he was looking at her; goosebumps surfaced on her skin.

A burning color rose on the crests of her cheeks. Connie was embarrassed by her response to Mike, especially since they had just shared that coffee earlier that morning. Forcing her eyes forward, she continued on her way to the snack room.

But before she reached the doorway, Connie heard Paige's voice above the noise of people working, file cabinets opening and closing, and fax machines whirring.

"Miss Rubirosa! It's _me_! Paige! Paige Regan!"

Connie stopped in midstep. She closed her eyes for strength before opening them again. She did not want Mike to see her inner turbulence exposed regarding him. For a split second, she thought of continuing on, but no, Paige deserved better, especially after what she had gone through.

Connie walked over, pasting on a smile as she stood in front of a seated Paige. Mike got up from his seat in Connie's presence.

"Hello, Paige... " Connie acknowledged; she then look over at Mike, her insides slightly quivering. She couldn't help the sigh that had escaped from her lips before she said, "...Mike."

His intent gaze fastened on her flushed cheeks and Connie became lost in his eyes. She felt hot and cold chills chasing throughout her body as her heart raced.

"What I don't understand, Miss Rubirosa," Paige broke the spell as she addressed Connie, "is how come you're not working the case _with_ Mr. Cutter? I specifically asked for you, you know..uh not that I am not lucky to have Mr. Cutter for my lawyer..."

Connie looked at Mike questionably. Even though Connie was responding to Paige's question, her eyes were focused on Mike as she began to explain.

"It's rather complicated, Paige...but let's just say it's due to company politics; you know how that is," Connie managed to pull away from Mike's gaze to give Paige a reassuring smile, "but you are in very capable hands, for Mr Cutter has worked for the past year at the Special Victims Unit over in New York."

Mike nodded appreciatively at Connie. He sat back, trying to look comfortable, but he could feel his stomach excitedly do a flip in Connie's presence.

"I know!" Paige was saying "It's just...I wish you were on this case, too."

_So do I,_ Connie thought. Perhaps she should work on making that happen...

Instead, she tried to look nonchalant, "Thank you, Paige, I appreciate that...but...I really do have a pile of work to do and I have to be in court in about an hour…so Paige, good luck with your case!"

"Oh...sure... and thanks, Miss Rubirosa, I hope we'll talk again..."

"I'm sure we will... soon," assured Connie. She then looked over at Mike and her lips slightly parted as she nodded to him as well. As she walked away, Mike turned his head, addressing the back of Connie.

"...I hope _we_ will talk_ even sooner!_" Mike spoke out, his voice enriched with amusement, as he sat back down.

Even though they couldn't see it, Connie was grinning. Without looking back, Connie casually held up one arm and gave a playful wave, a gesture he had seen before. The small but indelible memory caused him to smile as his eyes followed her the entire way until she disappeared in the break room.

The entire interaction was not lost on Paige.

Paige Regan could easily see the attraction between the two prosecutors. Somehow that knowledge made her feel more comfortable around Mike. Instead of the hardnosed, detached lawyer she assumed he was, she now saw him as a person with a vulnerable quality.

She was able to relax and lean back in her chair now, a slight grin appearing on her face.

"Uh, Mr. Cutter?" Paige remarked, "There's something going on between you two, isn't there?"

The question was unexpected. At first Mike was going to pretend he didn' t know what she was referring to, but instead he chose to hide his expression.

He glanced over at the breakroom doorway, making certain that they were alone before he spoke again.

"As you know, Miss Regan," stated Mike, not sure he even wanted to have this conversation, "Miss Rubirosa and I were working colleagues back in New York City. Nothing more."

Paige tilted her head, noticing how Mike failed to look her right in the face.

"Nothing_ more?_" she repeated his words, "I may not have gone to college, Mr. Cutter, but I don't need to take a chemistry class to _see_ chemistry!"

Mike tried to make a dismissive sound as he worked at keeping his voice steady.

"I assure you, Miss Regan, I am _not_ picking up what you are putting down!"

A smile tugged at one side of her mouth as she saw his face slightly redden. Paige enjoyed watching the progression of emotions on Mike's face. She now felt totally relaxed with him.

He cleared his throat.

"Miss Regan, we are here to talk about your case, remember?"

The mood had shifted.

His voice had taken on a gravelly seriousness as Mike made it clear it was back to work. Paige nodded reluctantly. Her expression became somber as she once again recounted her version of what had occurred that night.

He watched her expressions, listened to her haunting testimony while at the same time separating his emotions from what she was saying. The good news was that her story was consistent with the reports.

The bad news was that the two names she mentioned were not the same as the suspects.

_Jesse_ and _Phoenix_ were the names she insisted the two defendants had called each other, although their actual names were Patrick Martin and Edward North.

He was missing something here. Those other names had to mean_ something_. He just couldn't figure out what.

Instead of continually mulling over something Mike had no answer for, he, instead, prepped Paige for her first day at trial.

When Paige asked what she should wear, Mike said to just look how she normally look, there was no need to downplay her looks. She needed to feel comfortable on the stand and she wouldn't if she wore clothes that didn't suit her or a lesser amount of makeup.

"Remember," Mike warned her, "Whatever I ask you, keep your answers short. Don't elaborate unless I ask you to."

"Got it," Paige replied nodding, "Anything else?"

"Answer all questions honestly, don't hesitate or look uncertain."

Every now and then during the instructions, his eyes would dart towards the breakroom, as if he were waiting for someone to reappear. He yearned for just a quick glance of Connie since she would be gone for the entire afternoon.

"_Hello._.. Mr. Cutter?"

Paige had been talking to him and he had not heard a word she had said.

"Uh..sorry…Paige...Miss Regan…just mulling over the case," recovered Mike, "…and you were saying?"

"How's Cyrus?"

Michael scowled. The question seemed so random; it had caught him by surprise.

"Uh,Cyrus_ Lupo_?"

"...the one and only!" Paige looked hopeful, "I always thought…me and Cyrus had a thing going, you know? You see him around or what?"

Mike smiled, glad that he could concentrate on something else. Someone else.

"He's fine."

"You ever talk with him, Mr. Cutter?"

"Not often now, since I don't work cases with him, but I heard he's still at the 2-7."

Paige nodded, satisfied, "I dreamt of going back to New York someday now that it is safe for me. Kinda want to. And when I do…I thought I might give Cyrus a call. You think he's still single?"

"Uh…I wouldn't know, but yes, I think he might like hearing from you," concluded Mike, not knowing what else to say.

"Y-you think so, Mr. Cutter?" She wanted to believe him.

Mike looked at her evenly, "I'll tell you what, Paige. After I prep you, I'll call him and maybe you two can at least say hello to one another. Would you like that?"

Paige's whole face lit up.

"Oh! Yes! Very much!" she smiled, "Thank you, Mr. Cutter!"

Mike returned the smile. Let Paige experience a little happiness in her life.

"Can we finish up here now?" Mike asked.

"Sure! I want this done and over with!" Paige remarked, and then as an afterthought remarked, "I hope Cyrus remembers me!"

"I'm sure he will be pleased to hear a familiar voice, " assured Mike.

Paige nodded. She then leaned forward, as if she were telling Mike a secret.

"You know what, Mr. Cutter?" she almost whispered it, "I really do plan to make it back to New York one day... I certainly don't want to always be doing _this _forever_..._ you know what I'm saying? I want to make something of myself...I'm always telling myself 'Paige, first a dream and then make it happen, right?"

_First a dream and then make it happen._

Mike knew what his dream was. It included someone, but they were nowhere near the beginning to any sort of relationship. Outside of a few exchanged lengthy glances, he actually did not know_ how_ she felt about him, nor vice versa. He shook his head to clear it.

"I hope whatever dreams you have, they come true for you, Miss Regan," stated Mike with sincerity, "but for the present, let's finish prepping you for your day in court."

Paige nodded in acknowledgement, hoping her day in court would help to heal her wounds, just like what Miss Rubirosa had promised.

And like Paige, Mike, too, was also thinking of Connie.

.

.

_Next chapter is the court scene!_

_I'm so excited!_

_(I always try to thank all reviewers, but am unable to thank all the **anonymous** reviewers who have been kind enough to leave reviews. Please know that your reviews are read and truly appreciated)_

_Please review_


	8. Chapter 8

The Paige Regan Trial

Chapter 8

The downtown Los Angeles Courthouse was a major example of Art moderne architecture. Dark gray granite steps with pick swirls were used for the steps, retaining walls and walkway borders. The seventeen story-high building had five entrance doorways consisting of a pair of bronze doors capped by a projecting curved hood bearing a stylized eagle.

Mike took the elevator to the second floor as he entered the room where the trial would be held. All furnishings inside were finished in light walnut with a high plaster ceiling. Large vertical strip window openings allowed in the bright southern California sunshine. Thus the courtroom seemed lighter and brighter than in New York.

Paige's direct would be the first business in court.

She was already seated at the prosecution table when he arrived. Mike gave her a reassuring nod before he took his seat. He also noted the defense lawyer, Stanford Bennett, and the two accused were also present at their table.

The door from the Judge's chambers opened as Judge Sonya Cruz walked to the bench. Everyone stood upon the bailiff's announcement and sat down again once the Judge had settled in.

The Judge announced, "Call your first witness."

Mike stood up.

"The People call Paige Regan to the stand."

Paige had reverted back to her real name; her hiding days were behind her. Today she was dressed on the conservative side, yet not enough so that everyone in the courtroom couldn't tell she was from the streets. Her dress displayed her obvious curves and the skirt was a bit higher than a professional length.

Mike gave her a confident nod before she walked to the witness stand.

Paige held her head up high. She stated her name and swore on the Bible. When she sat down, her eyes focused immediately on Mike. She was ready.

Mike walked up to her, and she comfortably greeted him back.

"Miss Regan," Mike began right away, "you're a stripper, right?"

Audible gasps could be heard from the gallery.

The bluntness of the statement caught everyone by surprise. Paige blinked faster than usual.

"Um...Y-yes, that's right."

Mike furrowed his forehead slightly. She sounded too hesitant. To give her more time to adjust to her surroundings, he took his time walking away from the witness stand.

Mike then continued.

"And Miss Regan, your job requires you to take off your clothes for money, am I right?"

He had turned to face her again. With his eyes, he willed her to remember what they had discussed yesterday. Luckily, with the added time, Paige had calmed her nerves, and this time, she was prepared.

"Yes."

_Good_, nodded Mike appreciatively, no uncertainty this time. Concise, too.

"Do you strip in a club or at private parties?" Mike asked.

"Both."

Her voice never wavered. Much better. Mike nodded approvingly.

"And Miss Regan, how long have you been stripping?"

"A year and a half."

She looked so much more relax than when she had started. Her answers were short with no hesitancy. She _go_t it now.

He was trying to show how straight forward a witness she was, and Paige realized that as she sat up. She would show them all she was ready to tell the truth!

Mike looked over at the defense table. Defense attorney Stanford Bennett was looking at Mike as though he were crazy with his line of questioning.

Bennett's two clients, defendants Patrick Martin and Edward North sat expressionless. Not a sign of smugness or overconfidence at all. Bennett had advised them well on how to conduct themselves in court.

Mike turned back to Paige. He wasn't going easy on her, yet she now looked as if she was _wanted_ to hear the next question. He was pleased.

"Do you have _fun_ stripping, Miss Regan?" Mike continued on.

Paige opened her mouth to reply, but Bennett was on his feet.

"Objection, your Honor!" he looked indignant, "the question is totally irrelevant. Who _cares_ if she likes stripping or not?"

The judge turned to Mike, "Well, Mr. Cutter?"

Mike addressed his opponent.

"Tell you what, Mr. Bennett," Mike proposed, "I won't ask her about her stripping if you don't."

"W-what? Objection!" sputtered a surprised Bennett.

The judge seemed perturbed by the early interruption from the flow of testimony, "So, Mr. Bennett, you are objecting to your own objection?"

Bennett nervously licked his lips as he looked over to the jurists.

They peered back at him, some with unhappy expressions. He knew Cutter's questions were intriguing and entertaining. Everyone wanted to hear what the stripper had to say. Therefore, if he kept interrupting, he would come off as a whiney kid. Bennett wasn't winning any favors from the jury. He needed to pick his battles carefully.

The defense lawyer wisely lowered himself back down again.

Mike knew Bennett would try to make Paige's profession sound as sleazy as possible. That was why Mike wanted to bring it to the forefront now, where he could spin it to make it sound less salacious.

"You weren't stripping the night you were raped, were you?" Mike asked.

"Objection!"

Bennett shot up again. Dammit! That blasted Cutter was forcing him to object so soon after the last objection! He looked over at the unhappy jury box and cringed.

Mike immediately put up a finger, as though he had accidentally made a slight error in his questioning.

"Excuse me," he corrected himself, "You weren't stripping on the night you were _allegedly _raped were you?"

Bennett was quiet and sat down again.

"No," Paige testified, "I was invited."

"So, you were_ invited_ to the residence where Mr. Martin and Mr. North lived?" Mike asked.

"Yes."

"An apartment?"

"A big, fancy beach-house."

Mike nodded. The answer would make the defendants sound even more privileged.

"Did either one of _them_ invite you?"

"No."

"Who then?"

"The third roommate, Larry Cantrell."

"How do even _know_ Mr. Cantrell, Miss Regan?" asked Mike, "I assume you two do not travel in the same social circles..."

"I worked there the week before."

"When you say you worked there before…"

"…I stripped for them at a previous party." Paige answered evenly.

Mike nodded. They were getting in a rhythm now.

"So, is it safe to say, you were impressed with these young men at their beach-house?"

"Yes, of course."

"...And...this was due to their money and what it represented to you, right?"

"Yes."

Mike was liking her honesty.

"So, Miss Regan," said Mike, as he slowly paced the witness stand, "Regarding that first encounter the previous week with Mr. Cantrell, when you had to work by stripping... Did you perform any other services for the men at that party?"

Mike had stopped pacing and stood close to her, looking her straight in the eyes. He could see her take a deep swallow. She answered without hesitancy.

"Yes."

"Were these services of a sexual nature?"

"Yes."

She dropped her eyes.

Mike paused before he spoke again.

"Miss Regan," softened Mike, "Don't be ashamed. You needed the money."

Bennett almost objected, until he saw the jurors.

Paige quickly answered, "Yes."

"We all do what we need to do to put food on our tables." Mike commented to no one in particular, as he looked around the courtroom. He then pointed directly at the defendants, "But then….What was _their_ excuse that fateful night?"

That's it! Bennett was in a rage.

"_Objection!_"

"Sustained."

But defense lawyer Bennett wasn't done, "Your honor, that was outrageous!"

"I agree," stated Mike, "That WAS outrageous and you should chastise your clients immediately."

Murmurings could be heard in the courtroom as Stanford Bennett blustered about.

"_Move to STRIKE_! " insisted Bennett, pointing at Mike, "Rep-re-hen-si-ble! A mockery of the court! Highly defamatory! Your honor, I must insist on meeting in chambers!_ Immediately!_"

The Judge responded drolly. "I gather you found the statement slightly appalling, Mr. Bennett."

Sighing, the Judge then addressed Mike, "Unfortunately, I must side this time with Mr. Bennett... Mr. Cutter, I allowed you a bit of leeway in your line of questioning, but obviously, we need to set some ground rules. Therefore, my chambers _now_, counsellors... Court will adjourn until tomorrow at 10 am."

The judge pounded her gavel as Mike smiled over at Paige, who had managed to hold it together on the stand.

He was so proud of her.

Mike gathered his papers together, a satisfied grin on his face. He may get a slap on the wrist from the judge for his tactics, but whatever the consequences, it would be worth it. Paige was coming off as a credible witness and the defense would not be putting into play the sleaziness of her occupation.

Mike's prosecution was unconventional, but Paige deserved justice.

And Round One was theirs.

.

.

Jerry Hardin was in his office with DDA Connie Rubirosa, asking her how hers and Dekker's trial against Avery Cooper went this afternoon.

"Fine," was Connie's only reply, not wanting him to know hers and Dekker's differences on court strategy.

As Hardin leaned back comfortably in his chair, he had been fingering his pencil. He now placed it on his desk as he focused on Connie.

"Heard Joe was pretty hard on the defense's star witness, who was only a kid," he stated.

Connie's lips thinned. She obviously didn't want to be put in the middle.

"Jerry, is _this_ the reason why you called me in here?"

Hardin gazed at Connie from across his desk, thinking how lucky his office was to have such a beautiful, intelligent and hardworking individual in his office.

"No, of course not, Connie, " he assured her, "I just wanted to tell you how pleased I am with your performance here in this office. I really think there is a bright future for you here."

The praise came from out of nowhere. Connie wondered where this conversation was leading.

From outside, there was the hum of fax machines and the movement of office workers. However, a sudden hush seemed to pervade the main room, making Hardin look out the window.

Connie also viewed outside, just in time to see Mike saunter by. As he walked in long strides down the aisle of the office, she noted heads turning and coworkers softly talking among themselves.

Mike seemed oblivious to all the whispery attention he was generating as he went to his desk, sat down and picked up his phone to make a call.

She, like everyone else, had heard about his success in court today against a case that was slated for a defense win.

A sense of pride coursed throughout her body. She had seen Mike in action in court and knew him to be relentless and clever with his questioning, but now people here in LA could also see how truly brilliant he was.

Hardin could see Connie's attention drifting away, despite them discussing an important topic, her possible promotion to first chair.

"So you've also heard how lucky Cutter was in court today," Hardin stated.

Connie turned back around, slightly embarrassed to be caught by _another_ person observing Mike. She recovered enough to give Hardin a hard stare.

"You couldn't give him more credit than that, Jerry?" she pointed out, "He's working pro bono for a case that _you_ wanted to toss aside. It's costing this office nothing, yet if he wins, it will be a major win for _your_ office."

Hardin shrugged. She had a point, but it bothered him that she defended Cutter so quickly and thoroughly.

"Fair enough," remarked Hardin, "I had heard of his reputation as a good prosecutor, but I must say that so far, he has exceeded my expectations…"

Connie smiled as she adjusted herself comfortably in her chair. To her, a victory for Mike meant a victory for her. Of course, it wouldn't mean that _now,_ but still...

Connie was glad for this opportunity with Jerry Hardin. She had been wanting to talk to him ever since she finished up court with Dekker this afternoon. As she watched the clock on the wall, it was almost five o'clock and Hardin would soon be leaving.

It was now or never.

Connie leaned forward to make a point.

"Jerry," she proposed, "I want back on the Paige Regan case."

Hardin thought he heard wrong, "What? The Regan case? _Cutter's_ case?"

"_My_ case originally, remember? You yourself said it's now turning into a winnable case. Besides, my involvement in the Cooper case is basically over. Tomorrow Joe will be presenting closing arguments and then we'll be handing the case to the jury."

Even to _her_ ears, she was babbling. Must not sound so desperate, she reminded herself.

Hardin eyed her speculatively, "Connie, perhaps I did not make it clear. I am proposing putting you as first chair on future cases and even before I complete my proposal, you are already making demands on me. Let me be blunt and tell you that it is highly irregular for _any _of my people to be talking to me this way!"

Connie would not be dissuaded.

"Jerry, I have given my all for each and every case. I have worked late every night, I have worked weekends. Never once have I complained, have I?…so I don't understand why this one request is so difficult for you to approve."

"It's Cutter, isn't it?" Jerry bluntly asked.

A blush rose to Connie's cheeks, "I don't know what you are implying, Jerry. I have always maintained a professional relationship with Mike…uh, Cutter…"

"Always?" He looked doubtful.

Internally, Connie was fuming. She did not owe him any explanation.

"So what is your decision?" Connie was determined to keep it at a business level.

Jerry Hardin looked back outside at Cutter who just got off the phone. Damn, he was right when he said Cutter would ruin the efficiency of his office.

Yet Hardin _did_ want that win, he _needed_ that win.

"What about Joe Dekker?" he asked.

Connie had not realized she had been holding her breath. Thank goodness Lizbeth had kept her abreast of office gossip.

"I heard through the grapevine that DDA Lauren Stanton will be coming back from her stint in Washington DC," suggested Connie, regarding Joe Dekker's previous partner.

Hardin subconsciously ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't like putting the New York partnership back together, but he was also smart enough to know that as a boss, he needed to keep his employees happy.

Anything to keep her here. He would just keep a sharp eye out between those two.

"All I can say is that you better put this in the _win_ column for me," he warned as Connie worked at not letting her elation show.

She couldn't remember a time since she had been in Los Angeles when she had felt so exuberant over a case.

"Thank you, " Connie simply stated.

"I've always prided myself on professionalism in this office," announced Hardin in no-uncertain terms.

"Of course, Jerry," Connie said, trying to keep her voice steady.

The day could not end fast enough for her. Tomorrow she would be working on the Paige Regan case! She was more determined than ever to keep her mind on the case, despite what her yearning heart might be saying otherwise.

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_Please review_


	9. Chapter 9

The partnership

Chapter 9

Very early the next morning, Mike came strolling in the office early, coffee in hand. As he strode down the long aisle, he felt he was slowly acclimating to the more laidback feel of the West Coast.

Los Angeles definitely beats most cities when it comes to perfect, sunny weather. With winter just ended, he already saw LA drivers in sports cars with their convertibles down, cruising down Ventura boulevard, radios blaring. Pedestrians walked around in shorts and sandals. Restaurants served up meals on outside patios as people basked in the warmth of the sun. No wonder life went at a more leisurely pace here.

LA's philosophy seemed to be one of 'work to live', unlike New York City's 'live to work'.

Yet despite all the good things LA had to offer, he still missed the intensity and energy of the Big Apple. There was a part of him that relished the idea of going back to the familiar, going back to the hustle and bustle of New York.

But, then again, that would mean leaving _her_. Connie always seemed to be on his mind. Mike tried to clear his head as he approached his desk.

_Or at least where his desk used to be._

He was now viewing an empty space where his desk once stood. He looked left, he looked right. No clue as to where his desk might have wandered off to.

_What happened to his desk?_

He heard a male voice behind him.

"Cutter."

Mike turned to face Jerry Hardin, who was pointing with his index finger towards his office.

"...My office _now_."

Taking a deep breath, Mike figured Hardin was going to berate him for his courtroom antics this afternoon. Mike had certainly heard that speech enough back in New York! Nodding reluctantly, Mike turned and followed Hardin back to his office.

Once they settled in, Mike decided he was going to get the first words out. If Hardin planned on canning him, he would not make it easy for Hardin.

"Jerry, is there a problem? Is taking away my desk a weak analogy for you taking away my case?"

Hardin leaned back and watched Mike, slightly envious.

A part of Hardin wished he were in Mike's position right now. In his eyes, Mike was relatively young, smart, and ambitious. He had everything. Then, to top it off, Mike was about to be partnered with Connie Rubirosa.

Cutter would soon be feeling on top of the world.

"Actually, Mike, " Hardin said, "I couldn't be more pleased with the job you are doing on the Paige Regan case."

Mike had braced himself for the worse and this compliment came from nowhere. It also didn't escape Mike's notice that Hardin addressed him by his _first_ name this time.

Something was up.

"...And because you're pleased with how I am handling my case," Mike theorized,"you've decided I no longer require a desk?"

"That _had_ crossed my mind several times," Hardin admitted,"the last time being yesterday evening when Judge Cruz called, none too happy with the stunt you pulled. "

Hardin was sending mixed signals. Mike looked totally baffled, especially when Hardin broke out with a grin.

"...And?" Mike wondered.

"_And_," Hardin continued, as he bobbled in his executive chair, "as you know, winning a case is what my office is all about. And the idea that you might pull a rabbit out of a hat with this case pleases me to no end."

"..so then you reward me by having my desk removed?"

Hardin was really enjoying this.

"Not removed… _moved_," Hardin's steady gaze watched Mike's reaction, "I'm assigning Rubirosa as your back up on this case. I want a strong win for us, Mike, and I know she'll be a great asset for you."

_Connie working alongside him again_. Mike was thrown for a loop.

"Jerry, I-I don' t know what to say..."

"You could begin with a 'thank you," Hardin suggested casually, "And as far as the location of your desk,I had your desk moved into Rubirosa's office. I'm sure it won't be too much of an inconvenience for you to share space with her."

The last part almost had a wistful tone to it.

At first Mike thought he had heard wrong. Sitting motionless, he wanted to just absorb the words.

Sharing an office with Connie. He looked out the window to see if the heavens had opened up. He was even more anxious than ever to work on the case. He needed to get to Connie's office, or rather, _their_ office now.

"Perhaps, then, I should get started…" Mike started to get up from his seat, "..and, uh, thanks, Jerry."

"Just one thing, Cutter," stated Hardin, in a tone that made Mike sit back down in his seat. Here it comes, Mike thought, he knew there would be a catch.

"Yes? " Mike looked at him cautiously.

Hardin leaned forward and clasped his hand on the desk in front of him.

"Look, Cutter, " began Hardin, "I have always prided myself on running an efficient office. Previously, we had been the working model for other DA offices across the country. However, these last two years, the conviction rate for this office has been…"

"Jerry, do you think you can get to the point faster?" Mike was getting impatient, anxious to get going.

Hardin looked down at his hands as he gathered his thoughts together.

"What I am trying to say, " Hardin explained, looking back at Mike, "...is Connie Rubirosa has a future here. I don't want you screwing it up for her."

Again, Mike was caught by surprise.

"Now you've gotten to the point _too_ quickly," Mike pointed out.

Hardin grinned.

"Oh, I'm sure you know EXACTLY what I mean," Hardin countered.

The implication was obvious. _Don't make things personal with her._ An awkaward silence followed as Hardin stared down Mike. It was as if Hardin was working on mind control. He obviously wasn't going to explain further.

Mike nodded.

Message received loud and clear.

.

.

In Connie's office, the two desks had been placed back to back in the tiny room. There was barely enough space to maneuver around the desks.

At the moment Connie was busy reviewing Paige Regan's file as Mike patiently waited for her to finish reading.

But it was slow going for her as she prodded on. It wasn't that she was a slow reader. Connie was feverishly aware of Mike's presence, making it hard for her to concentrate on the words on the page.

At one point she unexpectedly looked up and found Mike staring at her. Mike felt his color rise at being caught peering at her. His eyes quickly switched to the paper he held in his hand. He used his other hands to casually scratch the back of his head while intensely eyeballing the sheet of paper in his grasp.

Hiding her smile, Connie continued reading her file.

Mike read the words on his page as gibberish while Hardin's words echoed in his mind: _I don't want you screwing it up for her._Obviously Hardin wanted to make sure Mike did nothing that would threaten Connie's reputation or job performance.

He was determined not to mess it up for her, too.

Eventually Mike would leave LA, unlike Connie, who would remain in this office to deal with these people day in and day out.

But as Mike sneaked another glance at Connie from across the way, all he could think about was how he wanted to wrap his arms around her and pull her into the shelter of his body.

He liked the way she bit her lower lip when she was in deep reading. Come to think of it, what _didn't_ he like about her?

At last she had finished reading the file and looked over at him.

"Mike, I have to commend you on how well you did in court, " stated Connie, "Paige Regan was not what we would exactly call jury-sympathetic, so you definitely had your work cut out for you. I also thought that was quite a theatrical ending in court yesterday! But knowing you, I shouldn't be surprised. It's just lucky that you picked the right judge for your kind of shenanigans."

"Shenanigans, eh?" Mike teased, "thank you for that wholehearted endorsement of my prosecutory skills. Definitely lucky that I won the lottery in the roulette wheel of indulgent judges!"

Connie snickered.

"You know what I mean, Mike!" defended Connie lightly, "I _am_ proud it worked out for you! And whatever your reason for your unconventional prosecution, Hardin seemed very happy with your handling of the case."

Mike shrugged, "At least my 'shenanigans' gave us more time... I don't doubt you would have had the same results in court, by the way. I'm just glad you're on board for the remainder of the trial. I really could use your help. At least, when Bennett gets Paige on cross, he won't be able to make a big deal about her being a stripper."

"...You mean...exotic dancer," Connie corrected, "We need to refer to her as an exotic dancer, Mike, not _stripper_. Remember in California, it's all about being politically correct."

The corner of Mike's mouth turned up in a smile.

"_Ri-ight...See?..._it's good we're a team again…you're a big help already!" nodded Mike.

"Well, I don't know if I will be a BIG help," Connie modestly stated, "after all, it's not as if we're in a foreign country and you need my help in teaching you a foreign language!"

"Yes, but I sometimes forget that I am not in New York City" explained Mike, "...And I need to get the right vernacular so I can sound as though I'm from Southern California."

Connie's smile was sincere.

"Out here we say _ lingo, _not_ vernacular_, Mike," Connie gently corrected, "We're more laid back here, remember? And by the way, we typically say we're from 'So-Cal'."

"Again, Connie, this is why I really need you!"

Connie tried to tell herself not to read too much into it, yet the way he was looking at her in that moment made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world. It was those piercing blue eyes, she determined.

She hoped he did not hear the unsteadiness of her breathing. She looked down quickly at her lap or she would be lost in his eyes.

As Mike picked up another loose paper from his desk, Connie became mesmerized by his hand. Mike's hand seemed so very...nice and strong. What would it be like if that hand was touching her?

_Shallow!_ she berated herself, as an inner warmth filled her. But she knew she had to look at something besides his face, for she knew that a flick of his gaze would send her pulse racing.

"Here are some notes I've jotted down regarding court strategy, " Mike was saying, "perhaps you could add some other ideas. " From across the desks he handed his paper to Connie.

As she read the sheet, Mike watched her and it caused his heart's beating to quicken. He was absurdly aware of her presence and had to force himself to focus back to the case.

Connie spoke out, "Our case would be a lot more solid if we could solve the mystery of those names _Jesse_ and _Phoenix._"

Mike nodded, liking how she already referred to it as "our case".

The mention of the names _Jesse_ and _Phoenix _helped Mike to focus back on the case.

Grabbing his pencil, he began tapping on his desk, as he looked up at the ceiling, silently staring upwards for a time. Connie couldn't help but smile. He never tapped a pencil back in New York. He always had his ever reliable baseball. She bet he really missed it now.

The reminder made Connie realized how much she missed _him._

They were not even chatting now, yet something about him being in the same room with her was so...comforting, so intimate, It had always been that way when they worked together. For the first time in over a year, Connie felt contentment in her heart.

_No, she can't allow these happy musings of Mike to enter her mind_.

"Connie?"

"Yes..sorry...what is it, Mike?"

"Do you have any theories as to why the defendants would use those names?"

Connie looked puzzled and shrugged, "I don't know...Maybe the defendants picked those random names so Paige wouldn't know their real names."

In a "maybe" gesture, Mike tilted his head left, right, left, right in quick succession.

"Perhaps, but...Connie, I just have a feeling there's a reason for those _specific_ names. We're missing _something_ here..."

Mike got up from his seat, shoved his hands in his pockets and started pacing as he continued speaking.

_"..._the significance of those two particular names is the _key_ to winning the case, I just know it!"

He glanced at his watch. Court would occupy most of their morning and afternoon. However in the evening, they would be free. Perhaps it's time he and Connie do some investigating.

The answer might be found at the beach house, where the rape had occurred. Although the police had already talked to the third roommate, Larry Cantrell, Mike wanted to go back there to question him personally.

Mike suddenly stopped pacing. Yes, they needed to go there.

He looked over at Connie. His gaze turned warm when she smiled sweetly back at him, her eyes filled with curiosity.

"You've got a plan, Mike?"

He nodded, "I've got a plan..but right now, we're due in court."

Connie grabbed her jacket and briefcase, "I'm ready."

Mike grabbed his briefcase. This morning he would wrap up his questioning, and he was not looking forward to Bennett's cross examination of Paige. He knew it was going to be vicious.

Then after a long day in court, he and Connie would visit the beach house to question roommate Cantrell. The words _Don't make things personal with her _entered his mind again.

Mike sighed.

First, he had to deal with Paige facing hostile questions on the witness stand by the defense, and then with trying to keep things impersonal while accompanying Connie to the beach during a lovely sunset...

._..what could possibly go wrong with either scenario?_ he sarcastically asked himself.

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_More court testimony next chapter!_

_Please review_


	10. Chapter 10

Back in court

Chapter 10

Mike and Connie had entered the courthouse hallway together. As they approached the courtroom, they spotted a long figure sitting on the outside bench.

A very nervous Paige Regan sat with her head listlessly down, quite aware that today she would be testifying about the actual assault that took place at the beach house.

"Mike," Connie whispered as she leaned in, "Why don't you go on ahead...I think I'll go over and give Paige a last minute pep talk."

"Good idea, Connie," agreed Mike.

As he reached the courtroom double doors, Mike gave a nod of greeting to Paige as she returned the acknowledgement with one of her own before he disappeared inside.

Connie walked over and stood before Paige.

"Hello, Paige, "said Connie, pleasantly, "Mind if I sit next to you?"

"Hi, Miss Rubirosa.. " Paige scooted over, "sure... have a seat."

Connie sat down, adjusting her jacket as she placed her briefcase down on the floor. She put on a cheery expression for Paige.

"Nervous?" Connie opened the conversation.

"Yeah, I am," Paige replied, showing her unsteady hand, "Look at how my hand is shaking!"

"It's to be expected, of course," nodded Connie, "but Mr. Cutter did an excellent job of setting the groundwork for your testimony this morning. He'll try and make it as painless for you as possible."

Connie noted that it did not seem to assuage a anxious-looking Paige.

"I'm scared," Paige admitted.

"Paige," explained Connie, "just continue on the stand the same way you did yesterday. Mr. Cutter will guide you through your testimony. All you need to remember is to tell the truth."

"Pfft! It's not Mr. Cutter I'm worried about!" insisted Paige," It's when that defense lawyer questions me...he's going to make me look bad!"

"I'm not going to lie to you, Paige, " Connie said, "Stanford Bennett will attempt to muddy the waters. He is an excellent defense lawyer and he will try everything in his powers to show reasonable doubt."

"He'll remind them that I'm a stripper," Paige lowered her head again.

"That's why our strategy will be to show you as a real person "explained Connie gently, " _Real_ is more important than pure. Attorneys forget that sometimes. They think they need to make their clients sweet and perfect. Not so. People are pretty good judges of character. They are more likely to believe you if you show your foibles."

That seemed to slightly calmed Paige down. She managed to peer over to Connie.

"I'm still scared," whispered Paige.

Connie smiled assuredly.

"Just know that you have Mike Cutter _and_ me in your corner!"

Paige looked hopeful, "yeah, I guess I'm lucky that way!"

Connie reassuredly patted Paige's hand.

"and, Miss Rubirosa?" Paige asked, almost as an afterthought.

"Yes, Paige?"

"You know what? I think Mr. Cutter really likes you, ...I can tell by the way he looks at you every time you're in the room, " she commented, much to Connie's embarrassment.

"Paige, I don't..." denied Connie, but Paige rambled on.

"...and if you two _ever_ got together, I think, _it will be magical._.."

Connie was speechless as she turned beet red.

Seeing her flustered reaction verified for Paige that whatever feelings there were between the two of them, it was mutual. And that made Paige happy.

Connie then looked at her watch.

"Oh, will you look at the time!"Connie stated, trying the change the subject, "I think the courtroom is probably filled to capacity by now! We should go inside, too!"

As Connie stood, Paige smiled gleefully. At least all that teasing momentarily distracted her from thinking about her testimony.

"Alright!" agreed Paige, as she also stood up, "And maybe afterwards, you can explain to me why you two insist _I_ tell the truth while you two keep_denying_ the truth!"

Connie blushed again and tried to get Paige back on track, "Paige, another thing about your testimony..."

"That's okay, Miss Rubirosa, " she interjected, "I'm as ready as I'll ever be...I'm sure you're anxious to hurry inside so that you can sit next to _he-who-must-not-be-named!"_

She ended it with a wink.

Connie sighed.

Next time, she was going to let Mike give Paige the pep talk.

.

.

Court was in session and Paige Regan was reminded that she had been sworn in earlier and took the stand.

Having Connie by Mike's side was just like how it had been in New York. Mike knew it would only took a turn of his head to see her lovely profile. When she turned to give him an encouraging smile he could only think how _natural_all of this felt.

He pushed these thoughts aside, for now he had a job to do. Mike stood up and walked over to his client, who showered him with a confident smile.

"Good morning again, Miss Regan," began Mike as she nodded her greeting, "I would like to begin with you where we left off, discussing the two defendants, Patrick Wilson and Edward North. Were you personally interested in either of the defendants as a potential boyfriend?"

Bennett was on his feet, "Objection! Relevance?"

"Your honor, " stated Mike, "The defense is going to state that Miss Regan is making up these charges to shake down the defendants' financially. I am trying to establish her frame of mind on that night."

"I'll allow it," nodded the Judge.

Bennett had no choice but to sit back down. Mike repeated the question.

Paige fidgeted in her seat, "I-I…well…I kinda liked Edward North, you know? He was nice to me."

"Did the knowledge that Mr. North was relatively rich mean anything to you, Miss Regan?"

"Sure."

Mike looked at the jury, letting them see the honesty of his witness.

"So what were your thoughts that night at the wine party, Miss Regan?"

Paige looked slightly embarrassed, "I thought…he, Mr. North, liked me, too. I know I wasn't in his league or nothing, but…I mean, he was so sweet the whole time I was with him…it was…it was…"

She faltered and looked down at her hands.

Connie sat transfixed and leaned forward, willing Paige to complete her sentence.

Mike also stared intently at Paige.

"What were you going to say, Miss Regan?" Mike asked, "That night at the wine party with Mr. North...it was…_what_, exactly?"

Finally Paige looked up directly at Connie. It seemed to relax her. In fact, she almost looked giddy.

"What I was going to say was...that night with him...it seemed _magical.._."

_(Cough!)_

At Paige's mention of _"magical"_, Connie choked and coughed, breaking up the quietude of the room.

Then she turned crimson when she realized half the courtroom was focused on her. Connie cleared her throat and nonchalantly began busily scribbling on her legal pad.

Soon everyone's attention was back on Paige, whose eyes were sparkling.

Mike was pleased. Paige's use of _magical_ was the perfect word choice_,_although he didn't quite understand her carefree reaction.

Then Mike looked over at the defense table. Stanford Bennett rolled his eyes, while his client, Edward North, smirked at the testimony. A _smirk_? Mike was even more pleased, let the jurors see the guy's true colors.

Mike continued.

"Did Mr. North's behavior change later that night?"

"Yes, " nodded Paige, getting serious again, "He was so nice to me at the beginning, you know? He offered me some wine, but I refused. Instead we took a stroll along the beach...and then... he kissed me, real sweetlilke, and asked if I would like to come up to his room..."

Her lips thinned as her eyes turned dark.

She looked clearly despondent. All Paige wanted to do was to block that night from her mind forever. Instead, she would have to retell the horrid events of that night _again_. Every last sordid detail.

Mike leaned in, "Miss Regan," he whispered, "Will you be alright?"

Paige slowly turned and looked at Mike, her voice trembling a bit, "I'm fine...ask your question, Mr. Cutter...I'm ready..."

She brought her head up high to show she was in control of her emotions.

"Did you _want_ to go up to Mr. North's room?" Mike asked gently.

She squared her shoulders, "No."

Mike feigned surprise, "Then why _go_ to his room?"

Paige looked around uncomfortably and cleared her throat before responding.

"Like I said before…I _liked_ him..and…I-I wanted him to like me, _too._ You know...someone like me...just don't get an opportunity like _this_ everyday…"

She then turned to face the jury, willing them to understand. A couple of them actually gave a slight nod. One juror rewarded her with the beginnings of a smile.

Mike turned and walked back to his table, pretending to be looking at his notes, but he was really giving the jury the chance to digest everything. Paige Regan was doing much better than he had anticipated. She sat with her back straight, trying to look brave, and yet, everyone could see the vulnerability in her eyes.

"Now, Miss Regan, what happened when you got upstairs to Mr. North's room?"

So the dreaded moment had arrived.

Taking a very deep breath she explained in detail how when she was upstairs, the other defendant, Patrick Martin, was already in the room, but she had not realized it until it was too late.

During this part, Paige continually glanced over at Connie for encouragement.

As Mike glanced over at the jury box, it seemed that the jurors were mesmerized by Paige's every word.

Bennett knew better than to object to anything at this point. He could only hope that Paige Regan would hurry through this portion of her testimony.

Mike expertly guided Paige through the assault. The testimony was graphic. Her voice was monotone, as if she had disconnected herself to what had occurred. She described what they did to her, how they laughed, and how they would not stop.

The whole courtroom was silent, everyone felt numbed. Mike gave her an encouraging nod at the end.

"Now, Miss Regan," asked Mike, "In your earlier testimony you claimed your attackers used the names _Jesse_ and _Phoenix._"

"Yes."

"When did they start using those names?"

Paige pursed her lips before she hesitantly answered.

"They used those names during, _you know_…"

Mike hated to push her, but the jurors needed to hear this answer.

"I'm sorry, Miss Regan," stated Mike ruefully, "but you have to be more specific. Please … when did Mr. North and Mr. Martin start using the names of_Jesse_ and _Phoenix_?"

Paige didn't blink, "During their assault of me... like Mr. North - would say, 'Bend her over like that, Phoenix."

Some people in the courtroom winced.

She took another deep breath as she added, "and Mr. Martin..he would say, 'Yeah, do her like that, Jesse..."

Silence prevailed in the courtroom, but Paige never took her eyes off Mike.

"You are aware, "said Mike, "that neither of the defendants is named _Jesse_ or _Phoenix._"

"Yes."

"Can you explain that?"

Paige shook her head, willing tears not to fall, "No. But that's what happened! I _swear_ it's the truth!"

No one seemed to be breathing at the end of the testimony. Mike nodded at Paige.

"No further questions," Mike stated to the courtroom.

Connie breathed out with relief. Paige held up well, but the cross would occur immediately after lunch. Connie had no misconceptions that Bennett planned to fiercely attack Paige's account of that night.

The trial broke for lunch, court to resume in two hours.

.

.

Mike and Connie stopped at a taco stand next to the courthouse to grab a quick lunch before driving to Malibu to visit the beachhouse, the scene of the crime, so to speak.

Connie again commended Mike on his savvy in court. Mike mentioned that whatever pep talk Connie gave Paige just before court seemed to have worked. Connie hope Mike didn't notice the slight warmth in her cheeks. She needed to say something, anything.

"Yes, she held up great, didn't she?" Connie asked reaching for her taco.

But Mike had already taken a bite of his taco. He now closely observed the taco from all sides, turning it over in his hand while at the same time commenting, "Say, this taco is really good! Delicious, in fact!"

Connie smiled at the switch in subjects.

"I believe we were discussing Paige's testimony," she teased, "short attention span, counsellor?"

Mike grinned back.

"What's wrong with discussing tacos before we discuss the testimony in court?" Mike asked, "You do realize that the word '_taco_' comes before '_testimony'_ in the dictionary, don't you?"

Connie once again found herself wondering how easy it was to have a nice time with Mike.

"Alright, we'll discuss the 'tacos' first, if you insist!" smiled Connie, feeling relaxed, "These are homemade _tacos de carne asada_, or tacos of grilled meat The ones here are most authentic, coming originally from the north of Mexico."

"You don't say!" exclaimed Mike, "They sure have traveled a long way! I'm surprise they still taste so fresh!"

Connie couldn't help but react with a short laugh. She was glad for the light bantering after such grim testimony.

Mike took a gulp of his soda, "Anyway, going back to your comment about Paige, she did fabulously. I'm so proud of her, too."

"I do think you are right about your original assumption, too." Connie said, wiping her hands on a napkin.

"Oh? You are admitting I am right about something without me having to argue _why_ I feel I am right?" teased Mike.

Connie turned and watched him, mesmerized by the sight of him. She liked how his laidback humor as well as his tenacity that knew no bounds.

"As much as I hate to admit it, yes."

"…and so, Connie, what exactly are you referring when you said I was right?" he wanted to know, "so that later I may have the words "Mike was right" etched in stone?"

Her smile made it obvious that she was enjoying the exchange as much as him. Then she turned serious as she sought to answer his question.

"I was listening to the Paige's testimony," Connie explained, "and something struck me as odd with the way Martin and North were acting during the assault...their behavior seemed, oh, I don't know... _off.,_It didn't make sense to me."

Mike took another bite of his taco, "Really? Which part seemed _off_ to you?"

"Hard to pinpoint…exactly" stated Connie thoughtfully, "It was just...the testimony of how they kept talking and moving her in certain positions seemed...I don't know...so purposely _planned..._And like you, I think those _exact_ names is the key to understanding their peculiar behavior that night..."

Mike took his last bite.

It was a better lunch than either had anticipated, but they needed to find some answers, and _fast._

"Well, after Paige's cross this afternoon," Mike suggested, "I thought perhaps we might drive over to the beach-house to talk with the third roommate, if you're not too tired, that is. Are you game for the beach later on?"

Connie had just finished her last bite. She somehow found herself happy just to be going along on the investigation with Mike.

"Surf's up!" exclaimed Connie, as she gave a teasing smile to Mike.

.

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_Paige's cross is next! Fasten your seat belts!_

_Please review._


	11. Chapter 11

Paige Regan's cross

Chapter 11

After lunch, everyone was back in the courtroom. The defense lawyer, Stanford Bennett would begin his cross of Paige Regan.

Everyone stood as Judge Sonya Cruz entered and sat on the bench. Paige Regan was once again brought up to the witness stand.

Court was in session.

At the defense table, Stanford Bennett stood and carefully buttoned the jacket of his light blue suit.

Instantly Connie scribbled something down on the legal pad. As Mike glanced over, a smile twitched over his mouth. Regarding Bennett's blue suit, she had written: _Last seen in a prom picture from 1978._

Connie felt they needed some levity for what was to come.

"Good morning, Miss Regan." Bennett addressed her.

Paige looked scared, "Morning," she managed.

"Let's get right to the case, shall we?" Bennett asked, somehow managing to sound slimy, "Did you imbibe any alcohol on the night you were allegedly attacked?"

Paige squinched her face.

"Im—what?"

"Did you drink any alcohol that night? A beer or wine maybe?" Bennett asked.

"I was offered some."

"Is that a _yes_ or a _no_, Miss Regan?"

She looked over at Mike, but he was not going to object. His strategy was to let her handle as much as she could, even if it showed her in an unflattering light. He would show the jury she was only human, that she made bad judgements, too. He nodded for her to answer.

"Yes, but I mostly drank punch," she replied icily.

"I see, "said Bennett, "and was the punch nonalcoholic?"

"That's what they said."

"Who said?"

"Larry Cantrell."

"Who else?" Bennett immediately asked.

"Huh?" asked Paige.

"You said 'they'," Bennett stated, "So it sounded like more than one person stated that fact, correct?"

"I'm not sure what you mean..."

"Never mind that, Miss Regan… how many glasses _did_ you have that night besides the punch?"

"I... don't know."

Connie had written on her pad: _Bennett's trying to confuse her._ Mike nodded in agreement. Bennett was asking questions in quick succession, not giving Paige time to think her thoughts through.

"You mean to say, you had so many you couldn't count?" asked Bennett.

"No, um, I just don't recall..."

"Try to remember!" he rushed.

"I can't!"

"More than one?" he quickly interjected.

"I guess."

"Don't guess. More than one?"

"Probably."

"More than two?"

"I-I don't know!" Paige felt pressured.

Mike could feel all his good work unraveling, yet what could he object to?

"Possibly more than two, Miss Regan?"

"Maybe."

"More than three?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Okay…" Bennett smiled, which put Mike on edge, "Probably two…and the only person who told you the punch was nonalcoholic was Larry Cantrell, according to your testimony…is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Oh, but Miss Regan," pointed out Bennett, "you've previously stated 'they' said the punch was nonalcoholic. But now you're saying one person. Are you changing your testimony?"

Paige looked confused; Mike stood; he had to intervene.

"Objection! Relevance?"

Bennett waved the question away.

That casual wave of Bennett's bothered Mike even more; he knew Bennett had something up his sleeve.

"I'll gladly move on," said Bennett, "…Did you drink the night _before_ the alleged attack, too?"

_Where is Bennett going with his questioning_? Mike thought as he got on his feet again to delay for time.

"Objection! The word drink could be anything…coke, lemonade, orange juice, water…"

Bennett looked amused, "You don't think everyone here _knows_ what I am referring to?"

"I would like clarification," Mike stated, somehow feeling he was playing right into Bennett's hands.

"Alright, _fine_..." Bennett feigned patience, "Miss Regan, when I say _drink_, I mean of an _alcoholic_ nature. Beer, wine, vodka, gin… did you consume _any_ alcoholic drink the night before?"

"Yes."

"How about the night before that?"

Mike stood, "Your honor, is there a point to this? I concede that Miss Regan has consumed alcohol before in the past. No one denies that. That doesn't make what Mr. Bennett's clients did any less horrible."

Bennett smiled confidently, as he faced the Judge.

"Your Honor, we believe Miss Regan is an alcoholic and that she was drunk that night. The jury needs to understand that fact when they are determining the integrity of her testimony."

"Miss Regan had already testified, "insisted Mike, "that she had _imbibed_ (using Bennett's term) perhaps two glasses of alcohol that night. She showed no signs of being intoxicated whatsoever."

"And I, " inserted Bennett, "have the right to cast doubt on her recollections. Not only did she willingly partake of intoxicants, the punch had indeed been spiked. I will produce a witness who will attest to that fact. Only an alcoholic would be unable to differentiate whether alcohol is added or not added to a fruit drink."

Mike looked indignant now, "Your _Honor!_"

The Judge nodded, "The jury will disregard that last statement…Move it along, Mr. Bennett."

Mike was not happy. When he was seated again, he took the yellow legal pad and scribbled to Connie: _I blew it_

He knew Connie would understand. Mike had let the questioning go on too long and now Bennett was able to offer more narrative against Paige due to his objection. Mike should have remained silent as he had originally strategized. He had lost his discipline and it cost him.

Connie had scribbled something back: _We'll get our mojo back._

Mike felt a little better.

"During the purported attack, " Bennett continued, "did my clients, Mr. Martin and Mr. North, wear masks?"

"No."

"Did they wear disguises of any sort?"

"No."

"Did they try and hide their faces?"

"No."

Bennett pretended to look confused, "Yet, according to your testimony, they locked the bedroom door and grabbed you. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"The very room that Mr. Martin and Mr. North shared together at the beach-house, right?"

"Yes."

"They didn't attack you at an unknown place, like an alley, so that it couldn't be traced back to them. Am I correct?"

Paige started to realize the trap Bennett was setting, "Uh... yes…"

"Odd, don't you think?...Withdrawn!" Bennett quickly added, before Mike could object.

Mike could do nothing but stay seated. Bennett was looking at the jury now as he continued questioning Paige.

"So, Miss Regan, it is your testimony that two defendants raped you, that they didn't wear anything to disguise themselves, that you easily saw their faces, that they did this horrible act in a room that you would be able to easily identify later. Is that correct?"

Paige looked nervous.

"Y-yes."

"And yet, "continued Bennett, looking completely baffled now, "despite not wearing mask, not hiding anything from you…they supposedly used _aliases_?" He held up his hand, "Withdrawn!"

Paige looked confused and beaten.

Bennett continued to come at her, "Your attackers allegedly used the names _Jesse_ and _Phoenix_ instead of their own names. That's your testimony, is it not, Miss Regan?"

She tried to recover, holding her head high, "Yes."

"Does that make sense to you?"

Mike stood, "Objection! _Nothing about this brutal crime makes sense to her!_"

"Oh, of course, of course, "agreed Bennett, nodding, "I was just hoping that Miss Regan might have a theory as to why they would let their faces be seen and attack her in their own room..and yet use aliases…do you have a theory to that, Miss Regan?"

"No."

Bennett started pacing again, then stopped, as if a new thought had suddenly entered his mind.

"Fine. Now, Miss Regan, do you know any rapist?"

Mike looked puzzled at the switch in the line of questioning.

"Besides your clients, no," Paige cleverly answered.

There was a slight chuckling from the gallery. Good one, Connie thought.

Bennett didn't acknowledge her answer.

"Miss Regan, I will ask you again...do you know any rapists?"

"I don't think so."

Bennett strode to his table and picked up a piece of paper, "Miss Regan, are you familiar with a man currently being incarcerated at Rikers on charges of sexual battery named Jesse Morgan?"

Paige's eyes grew wide, "You mean Jess?"

"I mean Jesse—or Jess, if you prefer…Jesse Morgan who used to reside on Green Street in Newark, New Jersey. You _do_ know him, am I correct?"

"Uh, yeah…_yes_…I _used_ to know him."

"Did you know he was in prison?"

She shrugged, "That's where he belongs."

"Nevertheless," repeated Bennett, "Did you know that Jesse Morgan was in prison?"

"You mean, Jess, " inserted Paige as she broke out in a sweat.

Bennett stared her down.

"Answer the question, Miss Regan, or the court will _demand_ you to answer…"

Mike was up.

"Objection! Badgering the witness!"

"Overruled. Answer the question, Miss Regan, "the Judge asserted.

"I've heard…rumors," answered Paige.

Bennett did a frustrated sigh, "_Yes_ or _no_, Miss Regan…did you know that Jesse Morgan is currently serving time at Rikers?"

"_Yes!_"

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it, Miss Regan?"

Mike shot up, "Your Honor.."

"Cut the sarcasm, Mr. Bennett…" stated the Judge.

Bennett nodded.

"Have you ever had sex with Jesse Morgan?"

"His name is Jess!" Paige insisted.

"Objection!" Mike stated, standing, "Her sex life is irrelevant to this case. _The law is clear on this_!"

Judge Cruz waved the two lawyers up, "Approach."

Both Mike and Bennett walked up to the Judge's bench.

"_Your honor,_ " pleaded Bennett quietly, "_I am not trying to besmirch Miss Regan's reputation by implying she is a loose woman. Opposing counsel has insisted my clients forced themselves on her. I'm merely showing this is not the first time she has made that accusation. "_

"_But it's highly prejudicial, your Honor!_ " Mike voice was low but insistent, "_and Mr. Bennett knows he cannot use a witness's previous sexual history against her."_

"_I do not plan to cite her entire sexual history!" _claimed Bennett_, "Miss Regan has accused two men of a serious crime. She testified that one of the men who raped her was named Jesse. Here is a real Jesse in her life that had been accused of that crime."_

Mike countered, _"Mr Bennett has failed to prove the connection between two separate incidents that took place at different times, different places with different men!"_

"_You can always connect two disjointed situations if the victim was drunk!_" Bennett fired back.

_"Your Honor, that is a blasphemous remark! Defense has yet to prove that my client was even drunk that night!_" Mike pointed out.

_"If the prosecution would quit objecting, I could make my point!" _Bennett glared at Mike.

The Judge measured each of their words carefully. She then leaned forward and addressed Bennett.

"_I'll allow you a little leeway, Mr. Bennett, but you better get where you're going fast! Now step back, both of you."_

Both lawyers returned to their positions, Mike looking none too happy.

"Miss Regan" asked Bennett, "you know Mr. Morgan well enough, for you had previously engaged in sexual relations with him, have you not?"

Paige looked helplessly at Mike and Connie.

"Yes."

"More than once?"

Paige looked frustrated.

"_Yes_."

"Were you ever drunk when you had sex with him?"

Paige looked visibly upset, giving Mike a look as if to say, _why am I up here?_

"Your Honor, " Mike needed to do something, 'I feel a recess is in order…"

"No recess," the Judge stated firmly before looking back at Paige, "Answer the question, Miss Regan."

Paige glowered at Bennett.

"Probably."

"And, Miss Regan, can you tell us the title of Mr. Morgan's favorite movie?"

Everyone drew a blank, not quite sure they heard right. That question threw Paige as well as Mike and Connie. It came from nowhere.

Paige blinked several times, "W-what?"

Mike needed to stop this crazy line of questioning.

"Objection! Relevance?"

"Your Honor, the point will be made quite clear in a second, "stated a smarmy Bennett, "and I guarantee you, you will not be disappointed."

"Do not guarantee _anything_ to me, Mr. Bennett," chided the Judge.

"Yes, your Honor," agreed Bennett, "I just have a few more questions along this line and I will move on."

"Then I suggest you get there," stated the Judge.

He then quickly turned back to Paige as he repeated the question.

"Mr. Morgan had at some point mentioned his favorite movie. Please tell the court what it is. And let me remind you Miss Regan, we have spoken to him and you are under oath."

Paige looked uncomfortable, "Uh, let's see...his favorite movie?... I think it was 'Little Nikita'."

"Ah, yes, the classic, "Little Nikita'!" nodded Bennett smiling, as he looked around the courtroom, "quite a suspenseful spy movie that was! And did you enjoy the movie?"

Paige shrugged.

"I suppose I did."

He then walked up and stood close to the witness stand, smiling as if they were friends.

"Now, Miss Regan, kindly tell the court who the main star was in that movie."

"The main star? I think it was River Phoenix" she volunteered and then gasped,"—_oh god!_"

The courtroom exploded as she uttered the last name of "_Phoenix_". Immediately Paige placed her palm over her mouth, as if she wanted to stifle the words, but it was too late.

"Order! Order!" the Judge pounded the gavel.

The room quieted as Bennett gave a smug smile.

"Let's recap, Miss Regan, "said Bennett, taking control, "so during the night in question, you could have, in a drunken alcoholic state, flashed back to a different time when perhaps you were with _Jesse_, discussing his favorite actor River _Phoenix._"

The entire courtroom was held captive by Bennett's assessment.

Mike needed to diffuse the situation.

"Your Honor...Is there a _question_ to all that nonsensical _rambling_ by the defense?" Mike wanted to know.

"Withdrawn!" Bennett quickly said as he walked away from the stand, "I am _quite_ done here!"

Bennett looked pleased as Paige looked devastated.

Meanwhile Connie showed Mike what she had scribbled on her legal pad, "_HATE him AND his blue suit!"_

They then exchanged looks.

Mike and Connie had a lot of damage control to do.

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_(Thank you for all the PM's asking about the beach scene...yes, it is coming! It will be the next chapter!)_

_Please Review_


	12. Chapter 12

Life's a beach

Chapter 12

It was late afternoon and Connie was driving west on Highway 10 heading towards Malibu, while at the same time listening to Mike.

"I let Paige down this afternoon, didn't I?' Mike asked, in connection to Bennett's successful cross earlier that afternoon. He was looking at her from the passenger side of Connie's Mustang.

"No, " stated Connie firmly, "Both you and Paige did your best."

But Mike was not convinced.

"I could not _believe_ how quickly the case fell apart," Mike voiced, "Damn! I should have been smarter, better prepared!"

He shook his head, disgusted with himself, as Connie exited her car off the freeway.

"Mike, it happens," Connie pointed out, as she continued driving, "Let's just hope that ridiculous story Bennett pulled out of thin air won't fly with the jurors."

"Not jurors, Connie, _juror._..he just has to convince _one_ of them of reasonable doubt!" Mike stated the obvious, "and if he does, those privileged defilers will walk!"

"I admit, we may have underestimated Bennett due to his smugness," Connie stated, "but the case is not over yet. Hopefully, we'll find some answers when we get to the beach house."

Mike and Connie were on their way to interview Larry Cantrell, the third roommate of the two defendants, to see if they could solve the mystery of the two names, _Jesse_ and _Phoenix._

A welcoming blue/green sign posted on the side of the road read, "Malibu: 27 miles of scenic beauty".

They had arrived.

Famous for warm, sandy beaches and for being the home of many Hollywood celebrities, the tiny community of Malibu was nestled alongside prime Pacific coastline.

The aforementioned house on the beach that the two defendants and Larry Cantrell shared was more like a spacious mansion overlooking the Pacific.

Larry Cantrell answered the door and did not look pleased to see them. With his mousy wavy hair and black-framed glasses, he looked more like an accountant, unlike his two other more charismatic, attractive roommates.

As Mike and Connie entered, they were impressed by the architectural structure of the home. It was designed with a breathtaking full view of the ocean from any room, any window.

Although the house itself was brilliantly designed with its tri-level panoramic views, the flawless interior design contrasted sharply with the living style idiosyncrasies of three single bachelors. The place was strewn with food boxes, beer cans, various sweat clothes, and shoes. A bike leaned against an elaborate abalone-inlaid wall.

An expensive oak bookshelf embedded inside one wall contained not the great works of Shakespreare, but DVD movies of zombies, super comic heroes, and even some porn. There was a special shelf displaying various video games and equipment.

Cantrell did not bother to offer them refreshments or even to sit, so Mike and Connie had to stand as they identified themselves.

"I really don't know how I can be of any help," Cantrell stated evenly.

"Do the names _Jesse_ and _Phoenix_ mean anything to you?" Mike asked.

Cantrell looked inconvenienced, "I already went over this with the detectives. No, those names mean nothing to me, nothing at all ... should they?"

"Those names obviously meant something to your _roommates_," pointed out Connie, "surely they had mentioned those names to you before, Mr. Cantrell? After all, you do see them on a daily basis."

"Actually we really don't hang out together. I merely split the rent with them. They lead their lives, I lead mine," Cantrell explained.

"Was there anyone at the house party that night Paige was there named Jesse or Phoenix?" asked Connie.

"You mean, did I invite two guys with those two names to the party? No I did not." Cantrell replied with certainty.

"Then tell us this, Mr. Cantrell, " Mike asked civilly, "what do you remember from that night of the alleged attack regarding Paige Regan?"

Cantrell shrugged, "Like I told the detectives, I was drunk, I don't recall a thing."

"How about," suggested Connie, "do you recall anything Miss Regan said or did after-"

But Cantrell was insistently shaking his head back and forth.

"I. Don't. Remember..."

He folded his arms. Larry Cantrell had clammed up and Mike and Connie could see they were getting nowhere.

Cantrell was done talking, obviously wanting Mike and Connie to leave.

Mike heaved a sigh of frustration.

"Alright then...thank you for your _un_cooperation," he remarked acerbically.

Cantrell had been obstinate; now he decided to be obnoxious as well.

"Actually, I hate to see you drive all the way out here for nothing, " Cantrell flippantly remarked, "So I'll do you a favor. You two can leave via my _back_ door, which leads to the beach outside. Feel free to appreciate it, courtesy of _me_. "

Cantrell's tone had a sarcastic bite to it, and Mike didn't like it.

"You know what you can do with your suggestion?..." began Mike, until he felt Connie's light touch on his arm.

"...Why, thank you for the invitation, Mr. Cantrell!" inserted Connie sardonically, "Don't mind if we take you up on your offer! Now if you'll be kind enough to point the way to the back..."

That wiped the stupid, self-satisfied grin from Cantrell's face.

"Fine," he stated coldly to them, "Suit yourselves. This way."

They walked towards the back of the house.

Once the two prosecutors stepped outside, Mike turned back around to face Cantrell, who was standing just inside the opened doorway.

"By the way," asked Mike, "I've noticed you have not been to court at all to support your two roommates. Any particular reason for that?"

Cantrell gave Mike a hard stare.

"Then he slammed the door in their faces.  
>.<p>

.

The backyard of the elaborate house did indeed lead to a secluded beach area. Due to the bright sunlight, Mike and Connie slipped on their sunglasses as they began their trek down to the beach.

"Well, _that was certainly a waste of time_!" snapped Mike, as they reached the stoned steps.

The sounds of the ocean waves could already be heard.

They had to go down a rickety twisted stairway that led down to the beach. Following the winding wooden handrails, they descended the stairs and before long, stepped onto the soft surface of the sandy beach.

Connie thought it had been a stressful afternoon; starting with Bennett's ruthless cross examination, Mike's dissatisfaction, and ending with Cantrell's unresponsiveness.

A large shadow of frustration also crossed his face.

"Cantrell's lying about not knowing the names _Jesse_ and _Phoenix_, I'm sure of it!" Mike stated.

"I agree," Connie concurred, "but did we really expect him to help _us_?"

Mike looked back towards the luxurious residence they had just left.

"I suppose not... " he said, "nevertheless, I have a feeling part of the answer regarding those names lies back there at that house! Damn! I just thought once I got in there, the clue would just pop up right in front of my face!"

Mike's emotions were strung high, still reeling from the earlier courtroom testimony. Connie knew to be patient. She had seen him like this before and knew the best way to handle it was to slowly ease him out of his mood.

Meanwhile he paused slightly and bent down to pick up a pebble. Whipping his arm, he flung it as far as the air could carry it out towards the water. They saw the pebble land on the sand before the ocean tides rushed in to carry it back home.

"Are you lashing your frustrations out on that tiny pebble?" questioned Connie, hoping to take his mind off of his worries, if even for a second.

"It's just…I should have done more!" Mike said it more to himself, "Instead, Bennett scored big in court today."

"Mike, it doesn't help to huff and puff to blow the house down. " advised Connie, "Knowing what you know now, what would you have done differently? When we get back to the office, we'll strategize our next move…we have all the clues, we just don't have the answer—yet."

When Mike looked over at her, his annoyance with the case slowly began to ebb with each step he took. He realized she was right. There was nothing they could do until they got back to the office.

So instead he looked around to take in the tranquility of the beach.

The shimmering expanse of the sand spread out in an endless golden color, cushioning the ocean's eternal arrival. He took a moment to feel the California sun beaming down its soft rays everywhere.

And then, of course, there was the awareness of being here alone with Connie.

At that thought, Mike's body began to feel even warmer as his heart began to thump in a mad rhythm. Mike wondered why Connie's mere presence was sometimes enough to ignite such a smoldering heat in him, why he had such a palpable reaction every time she was near him.

He looked off in the distance to settle his reactions before he could speak to her.

"You're right, Connie, it's not over yet,"admitted Mike, "but the defense hammering Paige Regan on the stand makes me more determined than ever to annihilate Bennett in court!"

"Really, Mike," teased Connie, "_Hammering_? _Annihilate_? Is that how you should be talking on a lovely day like today?"

A soft breeze gently blew against their clothing as they strolled. The salt-filled air wafted their senses, along with the ocean waters that continually crashed upon the shore.

Connie's right, he thought to himself, how could he be in a foul mood when Mother Nature was at her splendor best?

"Okay," determined Mike, "no more talk of today's court proceedings or our unsuccessful talk with Cantrell until we get back to the office."

"The _best_ decision you've made all day!" agreed Connie, "After all, we don't always need to be doing or discussing something, sometimes it just nice _being!_"

From a distance they heard the lonely squawking sounds of seagulls, and the powerful roars from the ocean. Waves upon waves combined into foamy crests before they came tumbling onto the sand, and then back into the blue waters once again.

They walked in silence for awhile as they absorbed their surroundings. Time seemed to standstill as worries faded into the blue horizon.

"This is nice," remarked Mike at last. He turned and stared intently at her, "and I was wrong to call this a waste of time."

He wondered what she was thinking, but she stared straight ahead.

Inside Connie's heart was pounding, but outside her expression was placid.

"LA certainly has lovely beaches, don't they?" she asked.

It wasn't lost on Mike that she was trying to keep the conversation neutral, imperosnal. Mike was reminded of his own promise that he didn't become personal with co-workers.

They continued walking down the sandy beach that seemed to stretch for miles as the sun had started to make its descent, signalling the end of another day.

At one point when Connie glanced discreetly at Mike, she did a double take. He had turned just in time to see her regarding him with a smile lurking at one corner of her mouth.

"_What?_" he asked, "Do I have something on my face? Did I have some leftover taco splattered on my face the entire time I was in court? Because that would _so_ explained the Judge overruling all of my objections!"

Connie's smile became wider.

"No, it's just that…I've never seen you with dark sunglasses on…and along with your suit, you look like an FBI agent, or perhaps, someone who should be guarding the President of the United States!"

"Really, now?" Mike asked, lightly, "Well, we can't have that!"

Connie watched as Mike took off his sunglasses and then placed them on top of his head. For some reason, she found that she was enjoying this "California Mike" look...casual with the sunglasses atop his ocean- blown hair, yet still looking office-smart with his professional attire as he continued to plod through the sand.

"How's that?" he asked, the deep blues of his eyes now easily showing, as he pointed to the shades on his head. He then added a playful smile at Connie.

"Better," Connie laughed at his efforts, "You _now_ look like a lawyer...a lawyer who will eventually triumph against all odds, so that justice will prevail!"

She always knew how to make him feel better. He suddenly stopped in his tracks, forcing Connie to also halt her steps.

"Mike, what is it?" she asked.

He held her in steady regard as his blue eyes gleamed with heat and intensity.

He tried, oh he tried to keep their working relationship amiable, but instead, every time he was near her, he became bothered and disconcerted by her presence, especially when she was being accepting of him.

Like now. And it's time he told her his appreciation of her.

Meanwhile the beach continued on its ceaseless wonders as the cool breeze touched their warmed bodies. Beneath their shoes, the soft sand glistened as it absorbed the remaining warmth of the sun's heat .

"Connie, I don't say this enough," his voice was low, "but thank you. Thank you for everything you have done for me regarding this case."

"Mike," responded Connie, a wash of color on her cheeks, "all I've done is to be here for you."

"But...that's all I've ever needed from you."

He then took one step closer to her.

His face was so close to hers as they stood face to face. Connie felt she was drowning in the blues of his eyes. She felt her heart thump against the cage of her ribs in impatient blows.

Mike's hand unexpectedly reached up and touched the side of her face, his fingers curving over her cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth.

The gentle touch sent Connie's pulse racing.

"Mike, what ...what are you doing?" Connie questioned, although she didn't discourage him, she didn't pull away. Her entire body seemed aroused in response to him.

"I don't know," he raspily answered.

From somewhere in the distance, they heard the rushing of the waters crashing up on the shore before retreating away in repetitive powerful rhythms.

Like the way their hearts were beating now.

Connie's hand reached up on its own accord and also gently felt Mike's cheek, her shimmering eyes never leaving his. She enjoyed the sensation of feeling his shaven skin.

Their captivation of one another seemed to obliterate any rational hesitations they might have had earlier.

Sensations rushed throughout both their bodies, spurring their pulses to an even faster, wilder pace. Desire swirled deep inside each of them.

Both knew what would happened next.

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_Please review_


	13. Chapter 13

A Romantic Stroll

Chapter 13

Sunsets are beautiful everywhere, but a sunset on a beach in Malibu will leave an indelible imprint on a person's soul.

With the sun's descent into the curve of the earth's horizon, the colors in the sky started shifting gradually from yellows to various hues of orange.

But Mike and Connie had not noticed as they were only aware of one another. A light breeze fanned across their faces as they stood facing one another, their gazes intricately locked.

Although they were no longer touching, Mike could still feel the warmth from Connie's hand on his cheek. That tiny gesture from her confirmed that the attraction was not as one sided as he had always assumed. He let out a slow breath at that thought.

When he spoke, his words seemed to caress her.

"Connie," he began, "I wanted to tell you that these last few days...seeing you again, here in LA, made all the emptiness of the past year suddenly go away…"

Connie eyes became larger as she realized this was the moment.

She could now confess the yearnings she had also felt for him.

_And... then what?_ she asked herself. Did she expect that Mike would then take her in his arms and sweep her away from here, that they would live happily ever after?

No, things like that only happened at the end of romantic movies. Real life was messy, unpredictable and complicated.

And the reality was, once this case was completed, Michael Cutter would be gone.

Connie lowered her gaze from him to stare off into the distance. The air was humid and scented with sea salt mistiness as they heard the rushing ocean waters in the distance.

This brief moment at the beach had been wondrous, but no matter how hard they tried, some good things were not meant to be. She had made her decision.

A wan smile touched her lips.

"Mike," Connie looked at him again, "Perhaps this place is making us see things in...a more...rose-colored _romantic _light...so it's been nice, it's been lovely, but right now, we need to concentrate on the case."

The hope in his heart sank, but deep inside, Mike also knew it had to be this way. He was resigned to the idea that when he departed, it would be without her.

But it was difficult to think like this when she was looking so alluring, standing in front of him like this.

"You're right, " Mike agreed, as he regretfully took a small step away from her.

Connie also tried to dismiss the deep pang of disappointment, and as always, she tried to make the best of the situation.

"In retrospect, however, I _do_ think it was good we came, " she stated, "it gave us a little breathing time, an excuse to relax a little."

She could not look directly at him when, as an afterthought, she softly uttered, "and I'm sorry, Mike."

"I understand," he said quietly, as he took a deep breath.

A breeze had suddenly picked up slightly, gently blowing Connie's hair in her face, holding Mike spellbound . He heard Connie gasped when his hand reached up to brush her wind-blown hair away from her face. His hand stilled in her tresses a moment longer than required before it was back down to his side.

With a lingering gaze, they regarded one another one last time before the intimate moment spun out with a dizzying flourish and dissipated.

"Come on, Connie," his voice somewhat shakily, "it's still quite a walk to your car."

As the sun set even lower, shades of deep gold, bright oranges and red streaked through the sky like extended colored ribbons. The change in the skies' appearance caused highlights of lavender to glisten across the top of the shimmery Pacific waters.

But they tried to overlook its appeal as they once more ambled along the uneven sand. The air was turning slightly cooler.

"Seems as though you are acclimating to LA lifestyle," he elected to change the subject completely, to something more noncommittal.

She slighly smiled, relieved to be on a safe subject.

"It was hard to adjust to living here at first. I really missed New York for a time."

Although the surroundings turned a bit cooler, Mike and Connie welcomed the spray of the water splashing up on their skins. The salty air blowing gently on their faces felt damp, but fresh.

The blue waves entering the shore were calmer now, as it lapped slowly up to the land before returning back into the comforting watery depths.

"What did you miss the most?" Mike asked lightly, turning to look at her profile.

Connie had wrapped her arms around herself and looked down, watching her shoes hit the sand as she thought of an answer.

She then looked up with a beguiling smile, "What do I miss most about New York? Their pizza, of course! Mmm...a thick, gooey slice of _New York pizza!_"

The corners of Mike's mouth curved up at her uncomplicated answer.

"Ahhh, yes...New York pizza, a classic answer!" agreed Mike, "Although, I have to admit, I had secretly hoped it would have been the Chinese food we used to order from around the corner."

'It would have been," reasoned Connie, "except sometimes, by the time we were ready to eat it, it had congealed and it was cold! Pizza at lunch definitely was more memorable!"

"Ouch!" said Mike as he stopped walking.

She thought he was responding to the fact that she picked daytime pizza over late night Chinese food with him.

Connie, paused and responded playfully, "Oh? Our ego a little fragile, Mike?"

He stooped over and reached for his shoe.

"No, not about that...wait, hold on."

Now bent over, he removed one of his shoes as Connie lifted one eyebrow in a questioning expression.

"Mike, what are you doing?"

"All this sand keeps filtering into my shoes..." he explained, as he poured out the sand. He then reached in the inside of his shoe and picked up a singular pebble, which was probably the cause of his discomfort.

"Well, will you look at that!" he jested, holding the tiny rock for her to see, "I believe that's the original pebble I tossed into the ocean...that nickname of 'Boomerang Mike' was well deserved after all!"

Despite the emotional day, Connie couldn't help but laugh.

Once he cleared his shoe, he then removed his sock and snapped it in order to remove any remaining sand. He then repeated the same procedure on the other side with his other shoe.

With an anticipatory expression, he glanced over at Connie.

"_Well_?" he asked invitingly, "I'm sure I'm not the only one with this 'sand-in-the-shoes' problem. Unless you've been able to hover above the sand, don't let pride get in the way!"

Connie actually could feel the grains rubbing inside her shoes. She, too, relished the idea of feeling the still-warm sand beneath her toes.

She smiled "Sure, why not?"

She proceeded to remove her business pumps as well.

As she poured the sand from her shoes, she peered at a content Mike, "Note the lack of _any_ pebbles and only a light amount of sand in my shoes, Mike. I know sometimes you act as if you can walk on water, but, obviously I can almost walk on sand!"

He laughed at that.

By the time she had cleared her shoes of sand, Mike had already rolled up his pants leg and had taken his jacket off. He slung it over his shoulder, anchoring it with one finger as they now strolled barefooted across the sandy beach.

Inevitably, they ended up walking closer to the edge of the water, to allow the sensation of the waves to crash over their feet. With each step they took, they could feel the grainy sand beneath their feet as they strolled along the shoreline.

The sand swirled as their feet made soft wet footprints. Then the tide would move in once more and the waters would wash away their newly- made indentations.

Despite the tough day in court, they felt relaxed as their silhouettes were shadowed amid the picture perfect beach setting.

"So, tell me about this California lifestyle you are so readily adjusting to," Mike stated, continuing their previous conversation.

"Well, it's not that I've completely adapted, "Connie said, relishing the feel of the sandy beach on her toes, "there are some good points to be said about both cities."

"Would you ever consider going back to New York?" he asked her, unexpectedly.

At that precise moment, she had turned to watch him. He returned her gaze and Connie felt she was being held prisoner by the vividness of his blue gaze. By the way he was steadily staring at her, it seemed as if he had read her thoughts regarding him.

Connie blushed, for her thoughts were what it might feel like to be in his arms, to feel his mouth on her lips, his hands moving gently over her. Her face flamed with a mixture of embarrassment and awareness at her imagery.

Mike mistook her silence for a reluctance to answer.

"Sorry," he apologized looking down, embarrassed, "that was unfair to ask you that when you have obviously made a life here."

"No, Mike, that's fine," she managed to quickly insert, "the problem is…I don't have an answer for that."

"I understand," nodded Mike pleasantly, "although I had hoped otherwise."

They now stood rigid in their spots, as his gaze held hers and a hot flicker in his eyes made it difficult for her to breathe.

Mike was having second thoughts about walking the beach.…the romantic setting…the casual way they were with each other. He had said he would keep it professional, but he was finding it impossible to ignore the attraction he always held for her.

Connie watched as a soft breeze ruffled Mike's hair and the wind whipped through his clothes. Meanwhile the crashing waves collided against the shore in relaxing, rhythmic splashes.

The multitude of orange-tinged shades in the sky finally converged and darkened as the sun began to disappear in the horizon. The waves continued to push relentlessly forward before rushing back. Seagulls soon began to gather on the now almost deserted beach as they celebrated the end of another enchanting beach day.

Connie's heart felt like breaking at the thought of leaving this paradise, but the sun had almost melted into the ocean and the evening would soon turn into night.

"It's getting late," Mike announced quietly, "we can cut across this bike path to get to the car."

She nodded, as she felt her insides tighten in reluctant response.

They began walking diagonally towards the cycle lane.

As with most California beaches, a bike path had been laid parallel to the shoreline. Two bikers were riding this trail as Mike and Connie were just about to reach the crossing of the bike path.

As bad luck would have it, one of the front wheels from one of the bikers had dipped down in a ditch in the pathway and his bike uncontrollably was headed for Connie.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mike noted the biker veering Connie's way.

"Connie!" he yelled a warning to her, "Look out!"

She was frozen in her spot as he instinctively reacted.

Quickly dropping his jacket, Mike pulled her into his arms, making a protective cage of his own body as he removed her from the path of the oncoming bike and rider. She gasped as the unchecked two-wheel vehicle flew by her.

It had been such a close call, she actually felt the biker's arm brushing her shoulder as the rider shot past them.

Even after the rider had recovered and passed them, Connie remained attached to Mike with a sigh of relief, blindly accepting his protection.

The biker barely missed them and didn't even look back as he hurried on his way.

Connie remained safely huddled against Mike's chest, neither one wanting to move.

Connie could hear the deep thundering of his heart next to hers.

_No, that was **her** heart_, she concluded, as he continued to hold her against him.

Long after the clumsy biker had gone, Connie remained safely clasped in the circle of Mike's arms. His arms around her felt so warm and safe, just like she knew it would.

She closed her eyes for a second, savoring their contact, Pressing her cheek to his chest, she could now hear the rapid rhythm of his heart.

Swallowing hard, she felt his hand rest on the center of her back, soothing her. Her body was filled with a strange, warm ache and she could only breathe in shallow gasps at his comforting touch.

"I think," Mike's voice and chest vibrated against her cheek when he spoke, "the bikers are gone."

But they did not move apart.

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_(Don't worry I won't let you down this time AND the case continues next chapter!)_

_Please review_


	14. Chapter 14

One surprise after another

Chapter 14

Golden sand, cool ocean breezes and the blue waters of a secluded beach are the perfect place for a romantic interlude, but perhaps not for two co-workers.

Unless the romantic couple and the two co-workers are one of the same.

Connie had remained in Mike's arms long after the offending biker had gone. And if anything, she found herself pressing closer against his long, sturdy form. Not that Mike minded as he made soothing strokes up and down her spine as he softly swayed her.

Wanting to show her appreciation, she slightly pulled away, tilting her head slightly up to meet his eyes.

Connie could only manage a wispy response, for his nearness was sending her heart crashing repeatedly against the wall of her chest, making it difficult for her to breathe.

"Mike... thanks."

A dimple peeked out when he smiled back.

"Sure."

The way her gaze lingered on him was causing his blood to run faster.

'D_on't look at me that way Connie," _Mike privately thought, _I can't seem to release you, so you'll need to be the one to step away from me...'_

Instead, Mike experienced a feeling of unreality when Connie's hand came up and shyly touched the collar of his shirt.

Her gentle, yet encouraging touch completely unnerved him and obliterated his willpower. His usually professional facade had cracked.

He needed to kiss her or he would go crazy.

The relaxing, rhythmic pounding of the waters seemed to encourage him further.

Mike shifted slightly as he pulled her in closer and Connie closed her eyes in anticipation. When his lips touched hers at last, it sent her senses reeling.

At first his lips were gentle, as if he feared being rejected. When none were forthcoming, his mouth settled more firmly on hers as her lips opened more and became relaxed, desiring more of the kiss.

She had never felt a kiss like this before. Her insides tightened at the intimate response while her arms wrapped around his neck. The heat and pressure of his lips was delicious and she found herself giving more of herself as she craved more of him.

It was the most romantic kiss she had ever received.

Mike also found he was helpless to stop; it were as if she had been bound to him in iron chains. The taste of her affected him like a drug. He felt his passions rising, especially when Connie's hands lightly touched the side of his face and he felt her stroking the bristles of his cheek and jaw.

Instinctively his arms tightened around her as the kiss deepened.

As they continued locked in an intimate embrace, flickering sensations unfurled deep inside each of them.

The flapping of their clothes against their bodies and the squawking of seagulls from up above, however, soon introduced them back to the outside world.

Reality slowly drifted in as the kiss ended and they separated.

They stared at each other in searing wonderment, the stillness broken only by the crashing waves. Both of them seemed shocked by the response from the other at what just occurred.

Their first kiss was overwhelming.

"Connie," he regarded her in all sincerity, "That...that was... _amazing._"

She was nearly undone with his words as she fought to even her breathing. All the years working alongside him, Connie had fantasize what it would be like to be in his arms, to feel his kiss. Now she knew and it was beyond what she ever expected.

"Mike, " Connie breathless responded, "it was...just that..."

Yet as they continued gazing at each other, the same thought entered both their minds: _Though it had been wondrous, where do they go from here?_

Mike's Blackberry suddenly buzzed.

Followed immediately by Connie's iphone.

They both regretfully looked down to retrieve their phones and read their screens.

Connie looked up first from her phone, "Mine is a text from Paige. She needs to talk with us."

Mike nodded after reading his message, "Same here. She's waiting back at our office."

"Then I think we better head back there, " Connie recovered, although there was still a telltale blush on her cheeks.

Mike shut his Blackberry off as Connie replaced her iphone in her cardigan pocket. He then reached down in the sand to reclaim his fallen jacket, quickly brushing the sand off it.

They took one last look around before they once again headed up the sidewalk to their car. Their legs and hearts felt like lead as they trudged through the now cool evening sand.

.

.

The ride back to the office was uneasy, to say the least.

Both had tacitly agreed that the private moment they shared at the beach was just something that happened, that it was brought about by needing to release some stress and also due to walking along a beautiful secluded spot.

But they both knew deep down that a kiss like that was not a fluke.

They entered the DA's office and the professional ambiance of the place reminded them that they needed to stay focused on the case. This was further reinforced when they entered their office and spotted Paige, patiently waiting for their arrival.

The three greeted one another as everyone sat down.

"Paige, is everything alright?" Connie asked, "Did we have an appointment today?"

Paige looked nervous.

"I want to recant my testimony," she blurted out, "I want to drop the charges on Mr. North and Mr. Martin."

She took a deep breath in as if she had been rehearsing those lines all afternoon. Mike and Connie were taken aback.

Mike was the first to recover.

"I understand that you had it rough up on the witness stand, but I can't let you just drop the charges, Paige, " he stated.

"I'm not asking you for your permission," Paige looked determined, "I'm here to _tell_ you to file the paperwork."

Mike scowled.

"Is there a reason why you want this now?" he asked, "Did you lie on the stand earlier?"

Now it was Paige's turn to look stunned, "What? _No!_ Of course not! Every word I said was the truth!"

"Then, Paige, what is it?" Connie asked in a gentler tone, "Why do you want to drop the case?"

Paige could not look at either lawyer's eyes as she responded, "It's a lost case. You won't be able to convict."

Mike looked angry.

"Dammit, you have no way of knowing that!" he insisted.

"Weren't you _there,_ Mr. Cutter?" Paige spoke out vehemently, "Did you see how that defense lawyer destroyed me on the stand? No one is going to believe a stripper over those rich guys!"

Mike couldn't believe this was the same brave Paige he had originally put on the witness stand. The one that wanted to see justice done!

So perhaps Paige had a different motive, Mike contemplated. There would only be two reasons why Paige would want to drop the case so late in the game; one would be fear and the other was money. Mike was counting on the latter.

"Someone offered you money, didn't they, Paige?"

Paige opened her mouth to deny it.

"No...no, uh, definitely not! " she responded although her voice lacked conviction as her eyes shifted side to side.

"Paige," remarked Connie gently, "it's okay if that's what happened. At least be honest with us!"

Paige seemed to take a while before she answered.

"And what if I were offered some money?" she eyed them, "Do you blame me? Look at me! I'm a _stripper!_"

Mike and Connie exchanged looks.

"Don't recant," Mike simply stated.

"You saw what the defense did to me in court, I won't win, Mr. Cutter!"

"If you recant, I'll charge you!" threatened Mike, grasping for straws.

"_Mike!_" Connie intercepted.

Paige looked shocked, as her mouth dropped open.

"_What?_" Paige turned to Connie, "He can't do that-can he?"

"He won't, Paige," assured Connie, " but we vigorously advise you not to recant. We have a strong case against the defendants."

"Really? You think so?" Paige stated with a tinge of sarcarm, "You can't even explain why I identified them as other people in court! _Don't you get it?_ I'm tired of being poor, tired of being scared! I was offered more money than I will probably see in ten years of hard dancing!"

Mike worriedly placed one frustrated hand behind his neck and groaned.

Connie sighed. Paige had a point. A victory in court was not a guarantee, but this was. Who could turn down a huge bundle of cash?

Silence enveloped the room. Connie at last spoke up.

"I'll draw up the papers for you to sign and they'll be ready tomorrow," Connie relented.

"Wait, _what_..." Mike began, looking confused.

"_Mike_," said Connie, "She is our client. We have to do what she wants."

Mike did not want to give in just yet.

"Paige," Mike tried to negotiate, "What if we learned why Mr. North and Mr. Martin used the names Jesse and Phoenix? Would you continue on with the case then?"

"Of course I would, Mr. Cutter," her eyes looking steely at last, "but in all this time we didn't know it, and I don' t think that will change...I-I just want to put all of this horrible stuff behind me!"

Paige stood up. Her mind was made up. She offered her hand to each of them, "Thank you for what you both tried to do, ' she said, sounding grateful.

Mike knew there was nothing he could offer her. For now, it was hopeless. Accepting defeat, he also stuck out his hand. Paige smiled weakly and shook his hand.

Then she was gone.

.

.

Mike and Connie sat looking at each other from across their desks. The intimate moment at the beach was put on pause now as they had a more pressing matter to worry about.

They needed to concentrate on the case. Or the lack of one.

"Well, " said Mike defeatedly, "I guess money _does_ talk..."

A dread filtered through Connie

"So does that mean you're giving up, Mike?"

He looked puzzled.

"Weren't you the one who said you would file the dismissal papers?"

"I said I'd file the paperwork tomorrow," Connie stated, "but that still leaves the rest of the night and early morning to come up with something!"

He forced a smile, "I like your optimism, but I don't know what else we can do...actually, a small part of me is relieved that she's dropping the case. At least this case won't cost you a lost for your office."

"That's Hardin keeping a scoreboard, not me," Connie sighed.

Then she remembered something. She reached in her desk and opened her top right hand drawer.

"Well, I guess you won't be needing this then," Connie looked at him for a second and then showed him what she held in her hand.

For the first time since Paige had left, a smile broke out on Mike's face.

"Is that..." he began.

Sitting in the palm of Connie's hand was Mike's blue baseball.

"I took the liberty of having this FedEx'd overnight from your office in New York, "she explained, as she held it out for him and he reached over and took it, "I thought it might help your creative juices to flow, although that point is now moot."

Mike stared gratefully into Connie's eyes. It had been a long time since anyone had paid close attention to such trivial matters in his life as him wanting to hold his baseball in his hand. And he appreciated the gesture…he liked the idea of being pampered.

And when they looked at one another, both had recalled the romantic kiss.

Mike cleared his throat.

"Thank you for your efforts, Connie...what would I do without you?"

He looked down and stared at the baseball in his hand. He gripped it tighter, feeling the well worn seams, recalling how many times he held it as he tried to organize details of a case in his mind.

"All I know is that we're not ready to call it quits yet, Mike," stated Connie," we still have a few hours yet."

Mike grinned, "bottom of the ninth, right?"

Her lips also upturned into a smile, "the _very_ bottom..."

Mike began busily tossing his baseball up in the air, deep in thought. Flinging his ball and catching it in a steady, even rhythm, he mindlessly recalled the beach house visit with Cantrell...the messy room with the strewn clothes, leftover food, bookcase items and the bike.

At the same time, he listened as Connie spoke.

"Paige, herself didn't look convinced she's doing the right thing," theorized Connie, "...I think she has some doubts to her own actions...she seemed confused tonight...it's like one time she's strong and the next time she's scared. Like two different people, one not knowing the other."

Mike was quiet, eyeing his baseball, still with his own thoughts.

_...the beach house...Jesse and Phoenix…two different people._

He threw the ball in the air again and again and again and then suddenly...he snatched it in midair_..._

_Wait. Hold on._

Holding the baseball firmly, he thoroughly rubbed the seams of it, taking comfort in the familiar.

_Two different people..._

He sat forward and shot a quick glance over at Connie, his eyes were blazing.

His reaction caused Connie to sit up also.

"Mike, _what is it_?"

"Different people… " he slowly recited, "when you said _different people,_ I transposed that idea with what I saw at that beach house...then it hit me...!"

Connie was baffled, "_What_? What are you thinking? You remembered something at the beach house that can explain away the names _Jesse_ and _Phoenix, _don't you_?_"

"Yes!" Mike nodded, as he gave his baseball one last toss in the air before confidently catching it, "The clue was at the beach house all along. _Different people!_ The answer was so simple!"

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_Please review_


	15. Chapter 15

Office politics

Chapter 15

Connie watched as Mike placed the baseball on his desk. He then quickly grabbed the Paige Regan file.

He rifled through all the loose papers. Scanning quickly, his eyes became fixated when he found the paper with the online charges. A smile suddenly appeared on his face.

"Yes!" he almost shouted, holding up a piece of paper, "It's all coming together now!"

Connie felt herself sitting at the near edge of her seat.

"So you know why they picked those specific names?" she asked.

"I'm pretty sure, but I'll need your help," Mike proposed, "There's research to be done and it'll mean staying late."

"I'm there!"

Reaching down into her bottom right-hand drawer Connie pulled out a plastic container filled with various colored M & M's, "I like to snack on these whenever I want to pull an all nighter."

Mike grinned, "M & M's? Is this another part of the SoCal lifestyle?"

"I can't say for sure on that one, "she smile back, "but I swear, Mike, the yellow ones are like amphetamines!"

Mike grinned playfully, "Great! that and coffee will be just what we need for working late."

"I'll go put a pot on," volunteered Connie, as she started to get up.

But Mike raised his hand to stop her.

"I believe making coffee is now _my_ field of expertise, remember?" Mike teasingly stated as he started to get up.

It was Connie's turn to smile.

"Fine by me, Mike!" she approved, "But, remember, _pour_ don't drop!"

"Don't worry, I've got the pouring technique down pat!"

Connie was actually looking forward to working late, "Mike! Aren't at least going to give me a clue as to what your theory is? I don't think I can wait until you come back!"

Mike had been on his way out, but now he stopped at the doorway and turned to look at her.

"And what would be the fun in that?" he asked.

.

.

Mike had returned with two steaming mugs of coffee.

Connie smiled as he placed steaming cup on her desk before returning to his own desk with a mug. The generous gesture of making coffee for her was such a sweet gesture.

Mike and Connie sat looking at each other with their two desks pushed back to back between them. They were acutally looking forward to working the all-nighter.

As Connie took a sip, Mike smiled, "How's the brew?"

She smiled back, "perfect." She then took the lid off her jar of M and M's, "Remember, the yellow ones are uppers."

"Then I'll avoid those for now," he said as he helped himself to a handful, watching her the entire time.

If Mike had discounted the kiss at the beach as temporary madness, then, why, as they sat in their office, did she still have that same effect on him? He realized he craved her physically and what was worse, emotionally. She was slowly causing him to lose the detachment he always had with the world.

Which was a good thing, wasn't it?

Connie, too was thinking of that kiss at the beach… the way his chest moved against her cheek when she was enclosed in his arms…the heat of his mouth…the searing pleasure of his kiss…

_R-r-ring_.

Both of their daydreaming vanished as they were brought back to reality. Connie looked at her phone, as if staring at it would make it stop. When it continued ringing relentlessly, she picked it up.

The caretaker for Connie's mother called with a family emergency, so Connie was required at home. She sighed. Afterwards, when she informed Mike, he assured her that he was more than capable of working on his own.

Their night together, unfortunately, was coming to a close.

"Mike, I feel bad about leaving you, especially if you've had a breakthrough…" Connie began.

"I wouldn't call it a breakthrough, more like a hunch," he countered.

Then he had an afterthought, "by the way, Connie, do you happen to have an 'in' with any of the detectives over at Police Plaza? Someone who might do you a small favor?"

It didn't take Connie too long to come up with a name, " Tomas Jarulzalski might be able to help us."

Mike got out a pencil to jot down the name, "Uh, did you tell me a name or did you just sneeze?"

Connie smiled, "It did sound as if alphabet soup had exploded in my mouth, didn't it? Anyway, I'll give you his home number and just call him "TJ" when you talk to him. Why?"

"I can't possibly do all that I need to do with another courtroom showdown tomorrow," Mike explained, as Connie handed the number from her Rolodex.

He scribbled it down on his pad. He then waved his hand around as if clearing the air, "Don't worry about it, Connie, just go take care of your family."

She stood up and gathered her things. Mike could already feel the office getting chilly as night descended quickly.

"I'll try and come in as early as possible," promised Connie, "Good night, Mike."

Mike looked at her a second longer than necessary.

"Good night... Connie."

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.

The next day Connie was at the DA's office at 8 am sharp, a large box of donuts in her hand. She strode quickly to her office, wondering if Mike would be here this early. As she peered in her office, disappointment showed on her face.

Both desks were empty, although Mike's desk was littered with papers and the Paige Regan file had been left opened. It were as if he had just up and left in the middle of reading it.

A half mug of coffee was next to his papers and his blue baseball had been placed next to that. Seeing that familiar possession of his made her smile.

Their office was a mess and once she came back from the break-room, she'd do a little clean up work here. Not that she minded. Somehow it felt so…intimate...to be organizing things on his desk, organizing his life.

For now, she'd better put the huge donut box for the other workers in the snack area. Nonchalantly entering the snack room, she gasped.

On the long couch that had been placed against the wall, Mike was sound asleep, his jacket thrown over his upper body for a blanket.

Connie quietly placed the donut box down on the main table and crept over to him.

Her heart drummed softly at the sight of the sleeping figure.

A smile touched her lips as she saw that he was curled up in a deep sleep. Sheets of papers had fallen to the floor.

Connie bent down to get closer to him, being careful not to disturb him. She could hear him breathing softly. Her heart stirred with protectiveness.

He looked so vulnerable when he slept.

Mike moved his head to a more comfortable position and then was deep breathing again. Any small movement he made seemed to fascinate her. He seemed at peace with the world.

The temptation was too great and she just couldn't help herself.

Connie reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. Mike murmured in his sleep and his jacket almost fell off his chest before she captured it and put it carefully back on him.

A male voice behind her disturbed her private thoughts.

"Miss Rubirosa!"

At first alarmed at hearing another voice, Connie recognized Joe Dekker' voice. Not wanting to wake Mike up, she turned and put her index finger to her lips to shush Dekker before she stood up and quietly walked to him.

"Joe, " whispered Connie, "you'll wake him! I'm sure he had been working here in the office half the night!"

If she expected understanding, she wasn't getting it from Dekker.

"Oh gee, gosh, " stated Dekker sarcastically, "isn't that _too bad_ that we are making it difficult for him to sleep in our _working_ office!"

God, thought Connie, she and Dekker had always mixed like oil and water.

"Is there something you need to say to me, Joe?" asked an insistent Connie in a low tone, "Can we discuss this out in the hallway, please?"

They both walked outside of the breakroom, prepared to do battle.

"I just wanted to ask you," questioned Dekker, "do you think we are running a daycare center here?"

"I told you already, Joe," Connie's tone was harsh, "he stayed late here to work on a case. He isn't the typical 9 to 5 worker!"

"Slackers usually aren't!" Dekker retorted.

A third voice had entered the conversation from behind them.

"What the hell is going on between you two?"

They both turned as their boss, DA Jerry Hardin, walked up to them.

Joe and Connie silently exchanged guilty glances.

"Is this a matter I need to be involved with?" Hardin asked in a demanding tone as he stood in the middle between them.

Joe Dekker guffawed.

"Actually, you better keep your voice down, Jer, "stated Joe, sarcastically, pointing to inside the breakroom, "Sleeping Beauty over there doesn't want to be disturbed."

Jerry looked beyond them into the room and noted Mike sleeping on the sofa. He then looked at Joe and then over to Connie glaring at Joe.

"In my office, you two," he demanded.

.

.

The three of them had settled in Hardin's office.

"I don't like coming in first thing in the morning and hear bickering from two of my best prosecutors!" Hardin admonished them both, "I don't understand why you two are even interacting with one another, being that both of you are on separate cases!"

"Because," said Dekker, "I am all about being professional! Then I come in this morning only to find other people in this office dilly-dallying! Come on, Jer! You gotta let your people know what is acceptable and not acceptable in this office!"

"Listen, Joe," rebounded Hardin, "I know exactly what goes on here! For example, I know that very often when you two are together, both of you are at each other's throat!"

"Well, I wouldn't be," Dekker stated, "if Miss Rubirosa would understand that we don't condone lovesick _squatters_ in the office here!"

Connie immediately felt her cheeks getting warm.

She had hoped Joe Dekker had not witnessed how she had been observing Mike asleep on the sofa. But it was obvious he had.

DA Hardin had turned to watch Connie's reaction. She knew he was bound to see the high coloring on her flushed face.

"I must insist," Hardin directed his words at Connie, "that we keep the highest standards in this office."

"I am in totally agreement," Connie responded, now able to look Hardin straight in the eyes.

"Hah!" Joe retorted

Connie turned to her former mentor, "Is this really even any of your business, Joe?"

"It is when it affects this office!" Joe exclaimed, "This office has one of the highest conviction percentages in the country…and do you know why, Connie? It's because we remain focused on a case! And from what I hear about your case, your client plans to drop the charges. How the hell have you two been advising her?"

Hardin leaned back, "Actually Connie. I've been hearing the same rumors myself…"

Dekker darted a look of satisfaction over at Connie.

"Jerry, " stated Connie, "I cannot comment on the case as of yet, being that I just entered the office myself…"

"…Perhaps," interrupted Dekker, "if you kept your mind on business, you would know what is happening on your own case!"

The implication from Dekker was pretty clear as Connie scowled at him.

When she turned and looked back on DA Hardin, she read disappointment in his eyes, something she had never seen coming from him.

He sighed worriedly, as if he did not want to say the next words.

"On your insistence, Connie, I allowed you to be put on Regan case, " Hardin lectured, "because I believed you when you said you would give your all to that case…"

Dekker looked pleased as he watched Connie fidgeting. He always felt that even though he was the star pupil in the office, Connie was the teacher's pet. It was nice to bring her down a notch.

Before she could even reply, however, the three turned at the sound of Mike's emphatic voice coming from the doorway.

_"Jerry, how could you ever question Connie's work integrity?"_

Connie couldn't help it. Her heart leaped at the sight of him leaning against the doorway. She had no idea how long he had been standing there, or how much he had heard. All she knew was that she was glad to see him.

As he approached, she saw he had managed to look office ready with last night's shirt tucked neatly in. The only clue that he had spent the night here was that his hair was slightly tousled.

Mike looked over at Connie, trying to quell the instant surge of pleasure at the sight of her first thing in the morning. He then faced the two men.

"…Connie _has_ given her all to every case she has ever worked on…" Mike insisted, "Look at her work ethics, her recommendations, her records. Professionally, she is the best partner I have ever worked with!"

Connie loved how he put them on an equal level as he looked over to her and nodded.

Dekker gave them both a look of annoyance.

"If you must know, Cutter, "said Hardin, getting to the point, "We were discussing the rumor we heard regarding Miss Regan's plan to recant her testimony, thereby dismissing the charges."

Mike gave Connie a nod of confidence.

"Don't believe everything you hear, Jerry, especially if the talk comes from another _lawyer,_" Mike had been looking at Dekker, "true, Miss Regan had considered the possibility, but I talked with her late last night and after I told her what I found out, she agreed to continue with the trial."

Dekker looked surprised, Connie looked pleased and Hardin looked relieved.

"So you were able to convince Miss Regan to stay with the case?" Hardin asked, with a satisfied smile, "You'll have to tell us your secret methods of persuasion."

"No secret," stated Mike modestly, "Paige, like everyone else, wants to see justice done."

He then gave one casual toss of his blue baseball that he had kept hidden in his hand until now, "Now if you'll excuse me," he said, backing away, "I have to go back to the hotel to clean up—Connie and I have a lot of work to do on our case, after all!"

He nodded to the two men and stated to Connie that he would also update her on everything before they went to court later that day. Then he turned and went out the door.

"Arrogant little b*stard!" mumbled Dekker under his breath when Mike had gone.

Afterwards, it seemed as if he took all the energy and enthusiasm with him. Connie had a full smile on display as she thought how much more interesting and happier her life was with him in LA.

She then stood.

"I better go, too." Connie sounded carefree as she gave an extra big smile to Joe before exiting, "Wish Mike and me luck with our case!"

.

.

_Please review_


	16. Chapter 16

A confrontation

Chapter 16

It was still morning and after a quick shower, Mike headed back by rental car to downtown LA to the DA's office.

Los Angeles is a city of diverse cultures and many are showcased in or around downtown. Long known as the business hub of the West Coast, downtown LA features many of the city's major arts institutions, sports facilities, a variety of skyscrapers, and unique shopping areas.

Due to LA being so spread out, most people do not use public transportation, but instead drive their own vehicles to their destinations. There was a part of Mike that enjoyed this feeling of independence, this feeling that he can just hop in a car and take off on his time. Gotta love LA for that, if one didn't mind the traffic jams.

Mike had just parked in the parking lot of the DA's office in downtown LA.

Feeling refreshed, Mike whistled softly to himself as he parked in the large paid parking structure across the street from the DA's building.

This morning he looked forward to preparing for court this afternoon and most of all working alongside Connie. He had always enjoyed his job, but now it seemed exhilarating to go to work, something he hadn't felt in a year.

He locked his car and proceeded out the parking structure when a male figure suddenly stepped in his path.

"Mr. Cutter."

It took awhile for Mike to focus on the lone figure standing against the bright sunlight. When he could see the man's face at last, Mike recognized the elderly distinguished man from somewhere, but he couldn't place where.

"Yes?" Mike responded.

"Good day, Mr. Cutter," he introduced himself, "I'm Jackson North."

Of course, defendant Edward North's rich father. The man in front of him exuded power with his designer suit and statesman- like demeanor.

Whatever North wanted, Mike was not interested. He was anxious to get to work.

"We really shouldn't be talking," said Mike, "Now if you'll excuse me…"

Mike sidestepped him, and continued walking. Jackson North had no choice but to walk alongside him. Despite Mike taking long strides, North had no problem keeping up with him.

And Jackson North was also not one to equivocate.

"It was very foolish of you to convince that slut to proceed with the case when she had decided to recant," he stated.

That made Mike stop to face the man.

"Her name is Paige Regan," Mike began, "and if you didn't want her in court, Mr. North, you should have taught your son _how to keep it in his pants_!"

Jackson North expression remained stoned-faced, "That's not funny."

"I wasn't trying to be...so are we done here?" Mike asked, now checking his watch.

Jackson North would not be brushed aside so easily.

"Not quite. I'll pay you a _fifty thousand dollars_ to drop the case," Jackson North bluntly proposed.

Mike's response was quick, "Not enough."

Jackson North paused slightly. Being a businessman, he knew how to negotiate, "Alright... name your price, Mr. Cutter."

"All the gold in Fort Knox."

North narrowed his eyes disdainfully, "I don't appreciate sarcasm."

"And I don't appreciate _you_ wasting _my_ time!" Mike countered.

Mike turned to leave, offended that North believed he could be bought. However, the bribery attempt reminded Mike of Paige. Of course! Mike whirled back to face North, snapping his fingers and then pointing.

"Paige. Paige Regan," Mike accused, "You _got_ to her, didn't you?"

North did not deny it as he replied in all seriousness, "You know how hookers are. They'll do anything for money."

"Obviously not this time, Mr. North," Mike took delight in telling him.

North pursed his lips.

"What do you want from me?" North knew he needed to try a different approach, "Edward's my son, my only son! Do you really want him to spend the next ten years in prison?"

"Yes, I do, "answered Mike frankly, "but unfortunately, it's not up to me. It's the jury who will decide his fate."

"Don't you see, Mr. Cutter?" North tried again, "He has his whole life in front of him! At the very worst, he was drunk that night and got carried away!"

"Mr. North, "said Mike, "I really do not care to continue this chat. This conversation is highly inappropriate…"

Jackson North was not a man used to being dismissed; he was a man who was used to getting his way. Being turned down was not in his vernacular.

"She's a _stripper,_ for Christsake!" North ranted, "Not even worth your time! She certainly wasn't worth my son's time that night! In fact, I bet she thanked _her_ lucky stars when she hooked up with _my_ son that night! She's just a goddamn stripper!"

"The fact that she dances in front of men for a living doesn't make your son less culpable, "Mike retorted, "If anything, it makes him more so."

North actually looked surprised, "You really believe that? A stripper exposes her body in front of hot-blooded young men...what do you think my son is suppose to assume?"

_"That she has to make a living!" _Mike rejoined.

"Humph!" scorned North.

"Look, Mr. North, let's get some things clear," Mike stated, " …the first point is that what Paige Regan does or doesn't do for a living is totally irrelevant to her being rape. The second and most important point is that your son raped someone against her will. It was not an act of two consenting adults. _It was an act of violence_. You just don't get it, do it?"

"My son," North said slowly but deliberately, "did _not_ rape... that..._bimbo_!"

"That's why we have trials, Mr. North, to determine if he did or did not...now if you'll excuse me..."

Mike tried to take a step forward, but Jackson North blocked Mike's way.

"I can make it hard on you, Cutter," Jackson North now threatened.

"Seems like you're already doing that," Mike responded. He tried once again to go around North, but North stood in his path and would not break eye contact.

"You should have accepted my generous offer, Mr. Cutter," warned North, "After all, you can't explain away the fact that she got their names wrong. You saw how Stanford Bennett eviscerated your witness on the stand. Your own arrogance will be your downfall."

Mike looked confidently back at North but deep inside he also wondered if he perhaps couldn't see pass his own ego.

Wordlessly, he managed at last to get around North. As he walked away, Mike had already begun pushing aside in his mind what had occurred the past few minutes, until North shouted out the only two words that would make Mike stop in his tracks.

"Connie Rubirosa," Jackson North stated to Mike's back.

Mike turned back to face Jackson, his eyes hard and icy.

"_What did you just say_?" Mike demanded in a warning tone.

Jackson walked over and closed the distance between them.

"Oh, I have your attention now, don't I?" North's smile looked more like a sneer.

Mike knew he would not like what North had to say next.

"Yes, you do, " concurred Mike, "and it's perfectly clear that there are no fair boundaries in your little game."

North looked confident once more.

"You are right about that!...you see, Mr. Cutter, my success is due to the fact that I do my homework...I always find out who I am up against," North explained, "In this case, if it includes following the opposing counsels around during their investigation, then so be it."

Mike's heart stopped, "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"What I am saying," North stated casually, "is that a sunset on Malibu Beach can be quite romantic, can't it?"

Anger bubbled inside of Mike at the thought of North invading his private life.

"_Go to hell!_" Mike reacted.

When North smiled, his eyes looked cold.

"Let's just say, Mr. Cutter, that if you keep up this witch hunt, I will show some pictures taken at that Malibu beach-house of you and the lovely Miss Rubirosa spending private time alone. Quite touching, actually, that little embrace of yours. Believe me, with my connections, by the time I finish with her, Rubirosa's little reputation will be _mud_ in Los Angeles."

Mike tried to control his breathing as he opened and closed his fist tightly. He wanted so much to punch North, but what he didn't need was an assault and battery charge in the middle of prosecuting a case. Mike looked down at the ground for a count of five before facing North again.

"Let me warn you," Mike's voice sounded intimidating, "if you do anything, _anything _that affect's Miss Rubirosa's career, I will _personally_ see to it that you are completely ruined!"

"Screw you, Cutter!" bellowed back North, "I own half this town! You can't threaten me! "

But Mike would not back down.

"That is _not_ a threat, Mr. North, _that_ is a promise! If you do _anything_ that affects her career, I swear, you'll be sharing a prison cell right next to your son, the _rapist_!"

Mike walked past him and never look back.

.

.

Connie was back in her office. She certainly had a tough morning.

As she got back to her desk, she took a deep breath and looked at her watch. In the short time that Mike had shared her office, she realized how much she missed him when he was not here.

On top of the files, Mike had left a note for her regarding the case. She read it slowly due to his illegible handwriting. Even that part of him she found endearing.

His illegible handwriting was _endearing?_ What was wrong with her?

She shook her head to clear her mind and get back to work. Late last night he had written up a subpoena for a surprise witness and Connie had already forwarded it by courier.

Mike was going to call Larry Cantrell to the stand as a witness for the prosecution. Interesting.

She could not wait to see Mike. They had a lot to talk about. She looked impatiently at her watch again. Mike should be walking in soon. That thought alone lifted her spirits.

At the sounds of footsteps, Connie looked up, her anticipation high.

Sure enough, it was Mike.

Mike liked that when she spotted him at the doorway, her coffee-colored eyes sparkled as she brightly smiled. He felt a sweet jab low in his stomach. Mike had only left her a couple of hours earlier, but upon seeing her again, he was reminded how dazzling beautiful she looked.

His searching gaze held hers, and Connie felt her insides tighten in response.

"Hi, Mike," she said simply.

Seeing her smile and hearing her voice again caused a tide of unwilling joy inside of him and made him forget the confrontation with Jackson North.

"Hi," he smiled back.

"That was quite a long shower you took!" Connie teased, "No wonder LA is suffering from a water shortage."

"So... you've missed me, did you?" he jested as he walked over and sat at his desk. He knew he needed to dive into his file to prepare himself for court this afternoon.

And he vacillated between telling or not telling Connie about his unexpected meeting with Jackson North.

"Actually I was delayed due to the fact that someone came upon me in the street as I was coming into the office," Mike began.

"Oh?" Connie's interest peaked, "Someone you know?"

"Not anyone worth my time," Mike tried to sound casual, "I got an offer from Edward North's father to drop the rape charge."

Connie sat back to absorb the words, "Edward North's father confronted you on the street? Was it in the form of a _threat_ or a _bribe_?"

"Yes and yes," replied Mike casually, "And evidently he was the one that had approached Paige Regan for the payment to drop the case, too."

"Well, I'm glad she decided to move forward with the case...so...Mike, are _you_ okay?"

Pleasure kindled and arose in Mike at her concern for him.

"If you mean," Mike began, "will this affect my court performance, I can honestly tell you no; that I am perfectly alright."

Connie looked at him questionably, "But _what_ then?"

Mike tried to appear unaffected, not wanting to tell her that North had mentioned her, "What do you mean?"

But Connie was not fooled so easily.

"Mike, I've worked side by side with you for years, now, remember?" Connie reminded him, "and I know when you're withholding something from me. Did Edward North's father say anything else I should know about?"

Mike decided he had said enough, now was not the time.

"Connie, you also know me well enough to know that I will discount anything in my mind that is insignificant, so can we move on and discuss something important, like the case?"

"Sure," said Connie,"I've been wanting to hear what you thoughts were regarding those names!"

Mike updated her on his theory as to the reason for the two defendant's use of the names Jesse and Phoenix.

"That certainly makes sense," Connie agreed, "but that's all it is now. A theory and we won't have the evidence ready by court today."

"That's why TJ is working on it," Mike said, "he'll have enough to keep him occupied for the rest of the afternoon."

"So do you you know how you will proceed with Cantrell, despite us not having all the evidence ready?"

"My strategy in court is to prove that Cantrell was the one who set up Paige with his roommates. That should be pretty significant to our case. So I don't need the evidence yet and TJ said he would text us the minute he finds out."

Connie nodded.

"Well, that's certainly some good news after the rough morning we've had!" she exclaimed.

He regarded her, now showing concern towards her.

"And what do you mean by '_we' _having a rough morning?" Mike asked.

Connie slightly cringed at her slip of words. She had already decided she was not going to mention it to Mike about Hardin and Dekker's lack of faith in her professionalism. It would only bring more animosity in the office. Thoughts also collided in her mind as she wondered how much Mike heard of her conversation with Hardin and Dekker.

As she looked at him, however, all the warnings that Hardin and Dekker gave her about keeping it impersonal flew out the window.

She was trying to remain cool and uninvolved with him, but there were so many seductive qualities about Mike, his intelligence, compassion for justice, and the raw interest he showed beneath his self-controlled façade.

Court would be later that afternoon, but because Mike was prepared, she was not concerned.

She felt the two of them were being forced to bend this way or that in order to accommodate other people's personal agendas. And it didn't seem fair. All she wanted right now was to get away from people who kept making demands on them.

A crazy idea entered her head.

"Mike," Connie proposed, "Court won't be for another three and a half hours and I could do with some fresh air. Do you mind if we go out of the office for a bit?"

Her question took Mike by surprise. But after the morning he had, why not?

"Sounds intriguing," he agreed, "what do you have in mind?"

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.

_Please review._


	17. Chapter 17

One with the Universe

_(I know that this chapter may be a little AU, but being from SoCal myself, I wanted Mike to experience as much of LA lifestyle as I could fit in! Thus, the mention of traffic jams, commutes, convertibles, SoCal terms, ethnic foods, and beaches. Another place associated with LA is the ever impressive Griffith Observatory and this was the only way of incorporating it into my story. I had actually thought to scrap that part of the chapter, but SilverChef convinced me otherwise. Thank you! And also a special shout-out to my friends, Abby, Amy, Maeva, Mary and Susan!)_

_(Don't worry, there is some courtroom testimony, too!)_

Chapter 17

A hub for amateur astronomers for decades, the Griffith Observatory in Los Feliz was fashioned after the Art Deco style of its day. The three-domed structure was situated high on a hill, allowing for a breathtaking view of the LA basin.

Connie parked her car and they had to hike a ways up a hill to get to the observatory.

"Since when have you taken an interest in astronomy?" Mike wondered, as they continued up the walkway.

"I don't come here for star gazing, exactly, "Connie explained, "it's just my time away from real life. Luckily I know the director. Come on, I'll show you what I mean."

They had at last arrived at the top of the hill where the observatory was situated. Standing on the rooftop, The Beaux-Arts design of rear terraces and colonnade's offered a 180 degree view of the city while it surrounded the accessible displays of astronomy's wonders inside.

From their viewpoint, Connie pointed south towards Griffith Park, LA's answer to New York's Central Park. The rest of the area commanded a view of the LA Basin, including downtown LA to the southeast, Hollywood to the south, and the Pacific Ocean to the southwest.

"Quite impressive!" Mike stated, as he looked around at the vastness of LA.

"You haven't seen anything yet!" promised Connie as they walked towards the grand structure.

When Mike and Connie passed through the historic bronze doors, they were greeted by the director, who seemed immensely pleased that Connie had brought a visitor for once.

They were escorted by him into the actual planetarium which was a 300 seat auditorium, with the seats tilted slightly back so observers could lean back and stare at the high-domed ceilings. The darkened ceiling was sprinkled throughout with nighttime stars.

The massive door made a huge sound as it shut again and Mike and Connie were left alone in the round room.

"If I come here early enough, before the place opens, " Connie expounded, her voice slightly echoing in the huge auditorium, "I can sit quietly in here. You can actually hear yourself thinking. It makes you realize our tiny place in the huge expanse of the entire Universe…here, take a seat."

Mike and Connie took front seats and leaned slightly back. They looked up at what seemed to be the authentic night sky, including twinkling stars.

She pointed out a few of the planets they could see with the naked eye: Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. She also pointed out some of the more well known constellations.

"Well, I did recognize Saturn with its rings," stated Mike, purposely pausing, "...that one is pretty self-ex_planet_ ory."

Connie did a fake groan before a smile burst forth on her face.

They sat in quietness, as the intimate surroundings produced an experience that was not only awe-inspiring but also thought provoking.

Mike had promised himself to keep a professional distance away from Connie. The last thing he wanted to do was affect her career in LA. He didn't want any more secret photos taken of him and Connie together. But they were not out in the open; they were away from prying eyes.

As they continued silently gazing at the assemblage of stars, Mike inherently placed his arm around the back of Connie's chair. He had not even realized he had done it until he felt her body stiffen slightly next to him.

He was about to bring his arm back down, until he felt her body slightly leaning his way.

For a minute they sat in relative quietude. Connie even allowed herself to shut her eyes to just feel the possessiveness of his arm draped behind the back of her chair.

She had forgotten about the serenity of the majestic stars. All she could think about was the closeness of his body to hers. At last she turned and faced him.

"Mike," she said gently, her voice trembling.

The sound of his name on her lips spoken in such a sensual, hushed manner filled Mike with desire for her. The arm that had been on the back of her chair now came to rest on her shoulder. She did not flinch, but instead tilted her body even closer towards him until the only thing keeping their bodies from touching was the armrest.

Mike was so close now that she seemed like a breath away.

"Connie," he whispered in her ear against the lushness of the stars, "I haven't stopped thinking about what occurred between us at the beach."

Connie felt the hot touch of his breath against her hair, his lips just inches from hers. His nearness filled her with an ache of longing.

"Neither have I," she admitted softly.

Mike heard the sudden unsteadiness of her breathing as he inched further towards her. She turned her head, as both of them felt their attraction climb to an excruciating height.

Then before he realized it, Mike cupped her chin up, leaned forward and caught her lips with his, searching for a deeper taste of her. At first Connie seem paralyzed but soon she began savoring the fire that consumed both of them.

He angled his lips even more, as the kiss became sweet and supple. A sigh escaped Connie as she surrendered almost magically to him. As the kiss lengthened, they strained to be even closer, despite being at awkward angles with an armrest between them.

When the kiss ended, Mike was staring into the passionate softness of her dark eyes.

"Connie," Mike whispered, "What happened in Malibu...it wasn't because of the beach, was it?"

She knew exactly what he was referring to, "No, Mike...it's us."

Connie noted how the illumination from the stars above skimmed unevenly on Mike's face as the tip of her finger lovingly caressed his cheek, the gleam from the stars touching his closely shaven bristles.

She was still enclosed in Mike's arms when the door suddenly burst opened, causing them to break apart instantly. The enchantment of the night skies above vanished under the spotlight of artificial light coming from the outside.

The director walked in, informing them that regretfully, a school bus of elementary school children had just pulled up.

Brightness and real life soon took the place of the luminous nebulous skies.

.

.

Mike and Connie had decided to grab a quick brunch before heading back to court.

It would be a long afternoon of testimony.

Attached to the planetarium was a simple snack bar area cleverly called, _'The Café at the Edge of the Universe'_ It was located at the lower level between the Depths of Space exhibit hall and the Transit Corridor.

The cafeteria-style café had an industrial feel to it with its exposed ceiling pipes and plastic table and chairs. But the truly impressive part of it was the large ceiling- to- floor windows that captured the fantastic panoramic outside views of landmarks such as the Hollywood Sign to Downtown LA.

Silence gently fell between them at first as they waited for their food. The images of their intimate embrace flickered in each of their minds.

"Did you enjoy the observatory?" Connie asked, as she sat across from him.

"More than I can say," Mike's voiced seemed low and sensual.

Connie should have blushed at the implied reference to what had occurred between them in the auditorium, but instead she was soon caught by his warm gaze. Her mouth then tilted upwards at the corners in the promise of a smile as thoughts of how attractive he looked flitted through her mind.

"Are you very hungry?" asked Connie, and then for some reason, she felt she needed to ask, "for uh, food?"

His gaze fastened on hers and it seemed to take forever for Mike to answer, "I'm starved."

They were having a perfectly normal conversation, yet, Connie felt a tightness in her stomach as she worked at sounding casual, "Good, because I have already ordered two of the specialty of the house!"

They spoke about the case as they waited for their food to arrive. At one pause, Mike looked out the window, before facing her again.

"This is so perfect!" he announced,

"The view _is_ exquisite, isn't it?" agreed Connie, as she pointed out the window, "and we are very fortunate because there is not much smog today. So if you look over there, you can even catch a glimpse of Catalina Island."

He never took his eyes off of her, "I was referring to being with you."

A sweet numbness filled Connie.

"Oh, _Mike_..." there was a tremor in her voice when she spoke.

Mike knew they were out in public and there was only a small chance that North had them followed. But at this point, he didn't care.

His hand settled gently on her hand.

Connie lowered her lashes as she looked longingly at his hand now covering hers. His hand felt masculine and warm at the same time.

Mike leaned in closer to her, his velvety murmur causing the back of her neck to tingle excitedly.

"Connie," asked Mike softly, "Thank you...I really needed this..."

His obvious attraction for her was almost too much for Connie to bear.

"Mike," Connie admitted with difficulty, "_**I**_ was the one who had a wonderful time today...and well, not just today... ever since you've arrived here…"

As Mike watched her, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms again.

Impressions of their kiss was forefront on both of their minds, despite their best efforts to set it aside.

But the moment was interrupted when the waiter brought their plates.

With the waiter hovering over them, Connie took a deep breath in and produced a sunny smile, switching to a lighter mood.

"Here it is...the specialty of the house!" Connie teased, "This exact dish has been prepared for the most discerning of tastes…the school bus children who come here!"

As the plates were placed in front of them Mike grinned at the two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that were enticingly displayed on a plate alongside a side of potato chips, carrots, and an apple.

"Did I not tell you this is the most exquisite of meals?" asked Connie. Another cafe worker came over and produced two wine glasses filled with...milk.

After the food servers left, Mike looked across at Connie, looking most pleased.

Mike lifted his wine glass of milk, as he proposed a toast, "...to justice..."

"Justice," echoed Connie, also lifting her.

Their glasses clinked.

As Connie took a small sip, Mike warned', "Hey, go easy on the drink! You're the designated driver!"

"Ooo," joked Connie, "It went straight to my head!"

Mike laughed.

They both thought this was their best lunch ever.

.

.

It was late afternoon and the judge called court to session. After the relaxing morning they just experienced, Mike and Connie were ready for court to resume.

Connie knew Mike's strategy was to show that Larry Cantrell had planned the meeting of Paige with the two defendants, acting as a pimp, so to speak.

Mike stood, "The People call Larry Cantrell to the stand."

Stanford Bennett rushed to Cantrell's defense.

"Your Honor," stated an indignant Bennett, "I must strenuously object! Mr. Cantrell is scheduled as _our_ witness, therefore, with Mr. Cutter's direct, I will advise Mr. Cantrell to invoke his fifth amendment rights."

"But Mr. Cantrell is not the one on trial here, your honor" Mike pointed out, "therefore he cannot plead the fifth on his testimony."

The Judge nodded, "Mr. Cantrell will take the stand and answer all questions directed at him."

When Larry Cantrell appeared reluctant, the judge added, "You must take the stand, Mr. Cantrell or be held in contempt of court."

Cantrell hesitantly approached the stand and went through the preliminaries before taking his seat on the witness stand.

"Now, Mr. Cantrell, "began Mike, "Let's start at the beginning. When did you first meet Paige Regan?"

Cantrell's expression showed resentment.

"When she came to the beach-house on January 10th," he tersely stated.

"So the first time she was at the beach house was a week earlier than the alleged incident, is that right, Mr. Cantrell?"

He gritted his teeth.

"Yes."

"Why was Miss Regan there that first time?"

"She was hired as a stripper."

"You mean, " Mike corrected, "an exotic dancer."

Mike looked over at Paige, who gave a slight smile at the correction.

"Regarding the January 10th party, did you hire her, yourself, Mr. Cantrell?"

"No," Cantrell shook his head, "all the guys at the party chipped in."

Mike tilted his head.

"That would answer the question _who paid for her services_, Mr. Cantrell," Mike asserted, "I asked if you were the one who _hired_ her."

Cantrell glared at Mike, "Yes."

"I see, " Mike nodded, "So, she came to your beach-house a week earlier and performed an exotic dance."

"Yes."

"And did you like it?"

Defense lawyer Bennett was up, "Objection! How is Mr. Cantrell's opinion of her dancing relevant?"

"Your Honor," reasoned Mike, "According to Miss Regan, Mr. Cantrell was the one, who invited her to their next beach party where the rape allegedly took place. I am just trying to ascertain why he would do that."

"Then just ask him!" exclaimed Bennett.

Judge Sonya Cruz agreed, "Sustained."

Mike nodded.

"So, Mr. Cantrell, you _did_ think Miss Regan was a good dancer..."

Bennett shot out of his seat, "Your _Honor,_you had already instructed Mr. Cutter..."

"Defense is interrupting in the middle of my question, your Honor!" Mike looked indignant.

The Judge nodded, "Sit down and try and be more patient, Mr. Bennett!"

Flustered, Bennett sat.

..."SO," Mike continued "Miss Regan being a good dancer is the reason why you asked her up to the beach house the following week, am I correct?"

Cantrell paused before answering begrudgingly.

"You could say that."

"No, _**I**_ don't want to say that, Mr. Cantrell," said Mike.

Cantrell rolled his eyes.

"Okay, then! _Yes_!" Cantrell looked thoroughly annoyed, "She was a good dancer so I asked her to come the following week! _Alright, happy now_?"

Connie sat up and took notice.

There was something odd about the way Cantrell was answering the questions. He was so reluctant, so hostile... more so than she had expected. She pondered over the meaning of his antagonism. Something else was going on here. If she didn't know any better, it was a sign of...

Suddenly an idea formulated in Connie's mind.

She began writing furiously on her legal pad, hurriedly underlining the last part. She caught Mike's eye from across the room and pointed to her pad with a pen. Nonchalantly Mike walked over to the prosecution table to read what she had written:

_Mike, we were WRONG! Cantrell didn't ask her to the party to set her up with the two defendants..._ _he asked because__HE LIKED HER!_

They exchanged looks.

This changed everything.

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_Next chapter...the trial continues!_

_Please Review_


	18. Chapter 18

Questions that lead to more questions

Chapter 18

The trial continued.

There had been a brief recess. Cantrell was back on the witness stand, looking much more amendable to answering questions. The defense lawyer, Stanford Bennett, had probably pulled Cantrell aside and briefed him.

Mike walked up to the witness stand. His new strategy wasn't to show that Cantrell had planned to set Paige up; he was going to show that Cantrell was actually crushing on her.

"Mr, Cantrell, did you think Paige Regan was attractive?"

"Um..." Cantrell began before Bennett shot up.

"Objection!" Bennett exclaimed, "that question cannot not be answered with a simple _yes_ or _no_! What if, for example Mr. Cantrell thought Miss Regan was only _mildly_ attractive?"

The Judge took the objection under advisement, "Sustained."

Mike paused to think, "Alright, Mr. Cantrell, how would you describe Miss Regan's attractiveness? You may do so on a one to ten basis, with ten being a swimsuit model."

There was a slight snickering from the crowd, as Paige tried not to look embarrassed.

Bennett looked ready to object, but as he scanned the room, he could see everyone was interested in Cantrell's response, including the judge.

"Uh, "Cantrell's eyes went up to the ceiling as though this was a cerebral question requiring exact specifications, "I'd say she was...uh..._six_, bordering on _seven_, maybe?"

"Fine, thank you," Mike said. He turned away from the witness stand, and when he caught Connie's eye, he smiled confidently.

Connie smiled back.

He was up to something, she thought.

"So, Mr. Cantrell, we are still discussing the first time you met Miss Regan, a week before the alleged attack…at some point in the evening, did you get to talk to Miss Regan privately?"

"I suppose..yes."

"How long did you talk with her?"

"I have no idea."

"Was it…say, more than five minutes?"

He shrugged.

"Probably."

"More than half an hour?"

"Definitely not."

"More than 15 minutes?"

"_No_..."

"Hmm...between five to fifteen minutes..." commented Mike pensively "I'm thinking that is a long time to converse with a '_stripper_', isn't it? Withdrawn!"

Mike paced the courtroom floor as he continued.

"Moving on.. " Mike changed the subject, "Miss Regan testified earlier that she had made extra money by performing sexual acts on several of the young men at the party that previous week. Do you know that as a fact?"

Cantrell anxiously looked back and forth, unsure as to how to answer.

"Uh…I don't know…"

"Really?" Mike feigned surprised, "So, is it safe to assume you did not engage in any of these extra services for yourself, Mr. Cantrell?"

Cantrell looked offended.

"I should say _not!_ _No!_"

"And you never heard anyone else mention Miss Regan performing acts of a sexual nature on them?" Mike asked.

_Excellent_, Connie thought, Mike had put Larry Cantrell in a dilemma. Cantrell was either going to outright lie on the stand or admit to an illegal activity that was performed at his residence.

He could not win either way.

Cantrell nervously licked his lips.

And then to Connie's delight, Cantrell did the worst thing he could possibly do.

He took the middle road.

"Uh…I think I may have heard some whisperings about it…" Cantrell at last testified.

"_May_ have?" Mike look of incredulity did not escape the jurors' notice, ..."Did you just testify that you _may_ have heard some whisperings about it?"

Connie liked what was happening. Mike was making Cantrell sound wishy washy, thereby implying that his testimony could not be trusted. When she looked over at the jury, she read apprehension in their eyes.

"T-that's right."

"So, Mr. Cantrell, " Mike pounced, "You're not _sure_ if you've heard some whisperings, meaning you _may_ have or you may _not_ have heard, or perhaps a third option... you just don't _remember_ if you heard the whisperings or not? Did I get that right, Mr. Cantrell?"

Mike's fast talking seemed to confuse Cantrell.

"Objection!" Bennett stood, "Your Honor...Is Mr. Cutter now working vice here? Is his case so weak that he must grasp at straws and try to indict these young men on soliciting a prostitute?"

"Your Honor," pleaded Mike, "There _is_ definitely a point I am trying to make…"

Though the testimony was mesmerizing, the Judge knew it needed to move forward.

"Mr. Cutter," chided Judge Cruz, "I think the court has been more than patient with your line of questioning. I must insist you stick to asking this witness questions that pertain only to the alleged assault, and not to recite every misbehavior Mr. Cantrell and his friends have committed."

Bennett shot Mike a smug smile.

"Very well, your Honor, "complied Mike, nonchalantly, as Bennett sat down again.

"So, Mr. Cantrell," Mike asked "did you ask Miss Regan for her phone number that night, the week before the alleged assault? Please bear in mind that I can easily call Miss Regan back on the stand."

Cantrell knew he'd better answer truthfully, "Yes."

"Why?"

"Uh, why?" Cantrell repeated in befuddlement.

"Yes, Mr. Cantrell," Mike asked patiently, "_Why_ did you ask Miss Regan for her phone number?"

" "I..uh..thought… I might call her..."

"But, to what purpose?"

Cantrell shrugged, "To, uh, talk about maybe hiring her for the following week."

"Really?" asked Mike surprised, "You had already privately talked to her for almost 15 minutes at the beach house...why didn't you hire her _then_ for the next week?"

"Uh...we were tallking about other stuff."

"Oh, I see!" nodded Mike, "So you discussed matters of a _personal_ nature with her?"

"No...not really..."

"Perhaps, then," Mike suggested, You were discussing the lag of consumer's confidence in the economy, then?"

Cantrell started to look annoyed, "Stuff! We just talked about..._stuff_!"

"And what was the essence of this "stuff" you've discussed?" Mike questioned, making air quotations around the word 'stuff', "and if you don't recall, I'm sure Miss Regan will."

Cantrell darted a glance at Paige.

"I wanted to... ask her to the wine party the following weekend."

"To exotically dance, Mr. Cantrell?"

"Uh, well," Cantrell took a deep swallow, "I…uh…asked her as a guest to the party…"

There was a low murmuring in the courtroom.

Connie could feel Mike was on a roll.

"So you enjoyed her company then," Mike concluded, as he walked over to the jury box, " after all, a lot of personal _stuff_ could be said in 15 minutes."

Cantrell felt boxed in.

"Alright...yes," he admitted reluctantly, "I was...interested in her..."

"But wasn't she, " Mike pretended to look confused, "according to your rating system, merely a _six_, bordering on _seven_?"

Connie nodded her approval. So that's why the ranking question. Mike was doing a great job of casting doubt on the witness's testimony and making Cantrell seem like a liar.

Cantrell could sense things were not going his way, "I may have scored her a little low..."

"I'm sure as we view Miss Regan today in court, we are all in agreement that you had been originally mistaken," said Mike, as Paige smiled.

Mike then walked back to the witness stand, "And did Miss Regan accept your invitation for a date, Mr. Cantrell?"

"Well," Cantrell responded, "I asked her to come to the party, but I didn't specifically say she was my _date._"

Cantrell seemed to be making petty distinctions, assessed Connie.

"I see..." Mike nodded, "so let's skip to the party on the night of the alleged incident...did you volunteer to get the punch for her?"

"I did."

"And is it your testimony that you told her the punch was spiked?"

"Yes," stated Cantrell, contradicting Paige's previous testimony.

"Really?" Mike looked incredulous, "Tell us how the conversation went."

"What?" asked Cantrell, "_Why_?"

"Mr. Cantrell, " Mike said, "Let me remind you that I ask _you_ the questions…So, let's start again...First you asked Miss Regan if she wanted some punch?"

"Yes."

"And did she say yes?"

"Yes."

"And then what?"

"Then I told her it was spiked."

Mike stood in total befuddlement.

"Just like that, Mr. Cantrell?" Mike asked surprised, "I must say, that just doesn't sound like a natural flow of conversation to me!"

"Objection!" Bennett stood, "Mr. Cutter is testifying! Mr. Cantrell testified the punch was spiked. Asked and answered, your Honor!"

But Connie could see Mike was scoring points. First with Cantrell obviously having personal feelings for Paige and now the possibility of lying about the spiked punch.

Mike then led Cantrell through some testimony regarding how Paige was flirting with Edward North.

"So, Mr. Cantrell, how did you react when it seemed as if Miss Regan seemed more focused on your roommate, Edward North?"

Cantrell shrugged, "She can do with she wants! I don't have control of her!"

His frustrated response belied his neutral words. Everyone could see that Cantrell was getting worked up. So by the time Cantrell testified how he witnessed Paige Regan go up the stairs holding hands with Edward North,everyone could read the jealousy written on his face.

"Now afterwards.." Mike asked, "did Paige Regan seem upset when she came back down from Mr. North and Mr. Martin's shared bedroom?"

"No," Cantrell seemed to have calmed his anger by now, "If anything, she was smiling and happy and light as air."

"Really? Smiling, happy and as light as air?" Mike repeated, and then added a "You mean like…_Tinkerbell_?…Withdrawn!"

Cantrell's last statement had sounded too saccharinely sweet; there were murmurings from everyone present.

Mike changed his line of questioning.

"Do you know anyone named Jesse or Phoenix, Mr. Cantrell?"

Cantrell thought carefully, "I may know a Jesse or two; but Phoenix, no."

"Are you aware that Miss Regan claimed the men who allegedly raped her were named _Jesse_ and _Phoenix_?"

Cantrell looked over at Bennett who gave a nod to answer.

"I-I heard that."

"I see," said Mike, "and is there any reason why Mr. North and Mr. Martin would call themselves those two names?"

"None at all…no."

"Before the alleged rape incident, Mr. Cantrell, had you ever heard of those two names together?"

"Not that I recall..no."

"So you cannot shine a light as to why Miss Regan would testify that her attackers were named _Jesse_ and _Phoenix_?"

"No," but Cantrell looked fidgety.

As Connie watched the proceedings, she suddenly felt her phone vibrating.

Mike looked over and saw Connie fiddling with his BlackBerry. When she read the screen, she smiled. She then glanced up and met Mike's eyes and nodded affirmatively.

Perfect timing, Mike thought.

"Your Honor," Mike said, "I need to further question this witness, but it is rather late in the hour..."

The Judge nodded, "Court will resume tomorrow at 10 am."

Court was dismissed for that day. Everyone solemnly filed out of the courtroom.

As the two prosecutors were packing up their papers and folders, Mike glanced over at Connie, hoping she would give the news he was waiting for.

Connie's smile said it all.

"I just got confirmation from TJ," Connie told Mike, "It took awhile, but he was able to find the one piece of evidence we needed."

"Great!" said Mike as they started walking out of the courtroom doors, "I think everything is falling into place now."

"I hope so," Connie agreed, as she started packing her papers.

They were both in a good mood as they walked out and opened the courthouse door leading to the outside.

A lovely sunset greeted them. The sun looked like a large, grand orange fireball in the distance, partially cloaked by the hanging clouds. Random colors of reds, yellows and hints of hot pink were splashed throughout the sky.

"LA certainly has a lot to offer," Mike said aloud, as he watched the scarlet sky.

As he looked over at Connie, his entire body seemed to pulse in response to her observing the sun's descent beyond the horizon.

"It really is beautiful today," Connie agreed.

She turned and could not take her eyes off his disarming blue eyes.

She was close enough to him that she caught the intoxicating scent of his skin, the male spice that would forever saturate her memory of him.

She was determined not to have another lonely night as long as Mike was here.

"In celebration of our small victory," Connie began tentatively, "Why don't share a small dinner together? It'll be my treat!"

She watched Mike's reaction, and surprisingly, he seemed amused.

"_Why_, Miss Rubirosa," teased Mike, "are you suggesting that my company could be bought tonight?"

Connie smiled, "Why yes, Mr. Cutter, I do believe I am!"

He had planned to keep everything professional, but he was powerless to control his reaction to her. His playfulness was shoved aside by a deeper, more urgent instinct. And once again, he felt off-balanced, that all the emotional certainties he knew in life had become unpredictable because of her.

But then a slight hesitation entered his mind at the thought of North again.

"Connie," he stated, "I have something to tell you. It concerns what I told you about bumping into North earlier today."

Connie looked questionably at him.

"What is it?" asked Connie.

Mike explained to her how North had basically tried blackmail in order to get his way. If Mike would not drop the charges, North would go after Connie's reputation and career.

Connie had a look of defiance.

"So let him!" she insisted, "I don't have anything to hide!"

"I realize that, but men of North's caliber don't play fair...they play hardball," Mike warned, "they can create stories out of thin air and make them stick. I believe him when he said he has the power to ruin your career."

"So your answer is that we just kowtow to whatever he demands?" challenged Connie, "Mike, that doesn't sound like you at all!"

"It does when it concerns your career!" Mike asserted.

"I will _not_ lead my life according to someone else's ultimatum!"

"Connie, I'm just saying we lay low...besides, with this trial, we've got enough to deal with!"

Mike had a point, Connie thought, at last backing down.

"So we go our separate ways?" Connie asked him, with a sinking heart.

She watched him with a heavy, sad ache.

Mike's thoughts collided inside of him, his lungs dilating in swift expansions as he watched her fallen expression.

No way in hell was he going to pass up being with Connie! Mike concluded.

Their moment at the Observatory had verified that something was happening between them. And whatever it was, he determined, he was _not_ going to let it get away from them!

Now it was Mike's turn.

Mike watched her intently as he answered, "Connie, I know of a place where we can be privately alone, away from prying eyes."

.

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_Please review_


	19. Chapter 19

Dinner and More

Chapter 19

When Mike said he knew where they could be alone, there was only one place where Jefferson North's influence could not be reached.

Their office at work.

They were back at the DA's office, back in the own little personal working space. Somehow it felt like the only home the two of them knew in LA.

"So _this_ is your ideal place for privacy?" Connie asked, as she looked around the familiar office.

"Think of it this way," jested Mike, "If we run out of things to say, it'll be the perfect place to talk shop! A win-win situation all around!"

Connie laughed, "I'm sold!"

Mike felt relieved. His idea made Connie happy. And the longer they stood and thought about it, the better the idea sounded.

Earlier, they had dropped by a couple of places to order some food to go. They placed their pizza box and a smaller box down at their desks. Next to them Mike placed a shopping bag containing drinks and other amenities for a dinner-in-a-box night.

"Well," said Connie, as she placed her hands on her waist and looked at their humble spread, "I know there are some plates and cups somewhere in the stock room closet…I'll just go get them, so I'll be right back..."

She turned and left.

With Connie gone, Mike loosened his tie, unbuttoned his top button and rolled up his sleeves. It was time to get to work.

The first thing he did was closed all the office drapes, just to play it safe. The effect was that through the thin, drawn curtains, the illuminated cityscape lights brought an unintended intimate feel to the room.

From the drugstore paper bag, he produced two candles and a book of matches. He lit the candles and then quickly walked over and dimmed the lights of the room.

The room was bathe in a soft, enchanting night allure.

Everything was set as Mike looked at his watch. Connie was not back yet.

He decided to see what was keeping her, to make sure everything was alright. Walking down the hallway, he heard items being shuffled about in one of the offshoot rooms. He found her, scrounging around the tiny stockroom, two plastic champagne glasses already in her hand, her back to him.

Mike just stood for a moment, watching her. She was so quiet and economical in her movements as she tried to reach up to the topmost shelf in the supply closet.

He was close enough now that her scent filtered through the air. It was a tantalizing distraction that he could not dismiss. Breathing deeply he tried to identify the fragrance. He detected some soft floral scent mixed with vanilla.

Absorbed in her task, she didn't hear Mike coming up behind her.

"Need help?" Mike announced his presence at last.

"Oh! Mike!" a surprised Connie twirled around, "I was just trying to reach up to that upper shelf to get the plastic plates."

"Here, I'll get it for you, " volunteered Mike as he walked behind her in the tight space. All Mike had to do was turn his head and he could have pressed his lips against her throat. He imagined finding the sensitive place on the side of her neck and kissing it until she would whimper with pleasure.

Connie caught her breath. He was just inches from her. She wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers across the light stubble, to press her palms against the hard surface of his upper body.

Mike had placed one hand lightly on her back so that he could reach up without bumping into her. He was so close to her now and it made her pulse jump.

She did not even have enough room to step back as his arm reached past her and he grasped the plates and then the small box of plastic utensils. Then she felt his body warmth leaving her side.

The champagne flutes she held trembled in her hand. Connie yearned for the feel of his touch again, but Mike already had stepped back.

"I have the plates and utensils," he choked out with difficultly.

.

.

Back at the office the plates, paper towels, and utensils were positioned on the desk as Connie produced plastic cups and ice for the soda.

As Connie sat at her regular seat at her desk, she tried not to read too much into the night. _I'm not some dreamy-_ _headed schoolgirl,_ she thought, as she took in the intimate surroundings. Yet she couldn't help feeling a pleasurable quake at the way Mike was looking at her, as he sat next to her in the visitor's chair.

"I've heard of dining simplicity, but this takes it to a whole new level," Connie tried to sound casual as she viewed their spread.

They had chilled glasses, candles softly flickering and a cozy dinner for two. Both of them pretended it was just a private dinner to get away from all the stress from the past days, but it was obvious they were both enthralled with one another.

Mike cleared his throat, "Maybe we should start with the pizza..."

He rubbed his hands enthusiastically as he reached out for the pizza box. He threw the lid open, and upon seeing its contents, he looked at Connie with a surprised expression on his face.

"Why, what do we have here?" he questioned.

"Pizza, California style," Connie explained, "It's called 'Thai chicken pizza'."

"In your description of my pizza, I do not believe I heard the words 'New York' or 'Chicago' style," noted Mike.

She smiled as she reached out and put alternate slices on the plate.

"That's right," she said, "This particular pizza contains peanut sesame sauce, chicken, mozzarella cheese, scallions, bean sprouts, carrots and cilantro. Thai food is quite popular here."

"So the pepperonis are hidden underneath?" he inquired, pretending to take a peek below the pizza topping.

"_Mike!_" Connie pretended to sound exasperated.

He took his first bite. Connie laughed at his reaction, as a smile slowly unfolded on his face.

"Connie!" he exclaimed, "My taste buds just exploded!"

His voice was filled with satisfaction and warmth, as his taste buds savored the new sensation.

Connie looked pleased.

"Just make sure you eat it all," threatened Connie lightly, "I warn you, not one morsel of chocolate cheesecake will be set on your plate until you do!"

Mike's eyes gleamed with sudden enjoyment, "Who knew you were such a cruel woman, to use my sweet tooth against me?"

He took another leisurely sampling of the pizza, as Connie enjoyed her slice.

"Truly an exceptional dinner," Mike took a sip of his soda from his champagne glass and then glanced at Connie's face, "and as a reward for putting together this delightful spread, Connie, I have a surprise for you."

"What? A surprise? What is it, Mike?" Connie inquired with a smile, "could it be that you'll be on clean- up duty tonight?"

"Even better than that!" Mike responded enthusiastically. He then got serious, "Connie, I'd like _you_ to be the one to finish up with Cantrell's testimony tomorrow."

Connie hadn't expected that.

"Y-you want me to be first chair?"

"Why not?" asked Mike, "From everything I hear, you'll be doing that in the near future anyway."

"Oh, _really_," stated Connie lightheartedly, "So you _heard_ this? I was not even aware of it! From whom did you hear all these wonderful plans of my future from?"

_Oh, damn,_ Mike hadn't meant to let slip that he had a talk with Hardin about her career.

"I've heard it," he said, "from... my brilliant sixth sense!"

That made Connie burst in a big smile before she, too, became solemn again.

"Mike, this is your case, and now, thanks to what we found out from TJ, we can wrap up the entire caboodle tomorrow. I think you should be the one who brings it home."

"But it was your case to begin with, Connie, " Mike reasoned, "and we worked on it together. Plus the actual win will be for your office, anyway. I know you'll do a bang up job with it!"

"Thanks for your confidence in me, Mike," Connie smiled, "It means a lot to me, _but_... I think we should both handle the questioning tomorrow...make it a team effort!"

Mike smiled, "I believe that can be arranged. I am really looking forward tomorrow!"

"Me, too!" agreed Connie, "I just hope I'll be able to sleep tonight!"

"Speaking of which..." began Mike, "here's a joke...how does the witness Larry Cantrell sleep?"

Connie smiled, she was in the mood for anything lighthearted, "I have no idea, Mike...how _does_ Larry Cantrell sleep?"

"First he lies on one side then he lies on the other!"

And despite all the stress from the last few days, they laughed as if they didn't have a care in the world.

.

They spent the rest of the night discussing various ways to attack the case and then before they knew it, dinner was over.

It was getting late and they would soon have to separate.

The thought depressed Connie as she looked over to him. The sight of Mike in the candlelight, flame and shadows playing over his striking features made Connie's entire body tingle.

As Mike watched her, he longed to touch the soft, silken fibers of her hair, her velvety skin, and the pulse at the base of her throat. He wanted to make her breath catch in her throat and hear her whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

They sat so close to each other. He lifted his face, and there was an intensity, a hunger in his eyes.

"Connie," he seemed to whisper at last, "When this case is over, I'll be flying back to New York. But I didn't want to leave this time without telling you how much I'll miss you, that the thought of leaving you is killing me."

Connie heard the words that broke her heart. He was laying bare his soul, something he had done with so few people in his life.

"Mike," Connie considered her words carefully, "The hardest thing I have ever done will be when I watch you walk away from me. These last few days with you have made me feel happier than I ever thought was possible."

Mike could not help it. He reached out and gently touched her cheek.

Connie closed her eyes for a second, savoring his touch.

When she opened her eyes again, she glanced to where his shirt revealed his bare throat. Her breath quickened, betraying her awareness of him.

Their shared gazes were filled with desire.

Mike's hands reached up and curved around Connie's shoulders. He nudged her forward, his mouth lowering to hers. His lips were so tender and sensual that she could not help responding.

Her thoughts scattered crazily. Connie inhaled sharply and tilted her head in utter surrender. She felt the pull of ecstasy in every limb, her nerves screaming for more. At last when Mike released Connie's mouth, he left her lips moist and kiss-softened.

His face remained close to hers and Connie felt as if she were drowning in the blue pools of his eyes. His hand came to the side of her face, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth.

"Come back to New York with me," he softly said.

He held her gaze deliberately, informing her silently that he no longer wanted to conceal his feelings.

But he felt, more than saw her stiffen. _Too soon_, he realized. Looking at her face, Mike sensed her inner struggle, as if she were determined to deny herself something she wanted badly.

His invitation had taken Connie by total surprise. Her heart began to pound with uncomfortable force. They had been having a wonderful time up until this point.

She had just settled in LA. How could he ask her to just up and take up roots again? she internalized. There was something to be said for living in "la la land", of waking up everyday to sunshine. Not to mention, her career was just taking off, with promises of her being promoted to Senior DDA.

She was expecting to be finally rewarded for all the endless nights she had worked this past year. Could she give it all up and start all over again?

"Mike, " Connie tried to keep her thoughts together, "I'm surprised and flattered...but...the timing is so off...I have family here, I have my career here!"

Mike leaned back, regretting his words, trying to understand the difficult situation he had put them both in. But his time in LA was running out.

And he _did_ see her point. She deserved all the accolades coming her way.

But he had entrusted his heart to her. They had shared stolen looks and intimate kisses. And he wanted more, but Connie obviously was not ready for him.

Mike felt frustrated, wanting for the first time in his life to own the heart of a woman. It was his particular misfortune that it had to be his legal partner. He felt if he couldn't be with her, he would remain alone for the rest of his years.

But her life was _here, _he concluded_,_ and he cared enough for her to want her happiness over his, something that had never happened before in his life.

And he knew it would hurt the longer he stayed with her.

"I should go back to the hotel now," he stated coolly, getting up, "Court will be early tomorrow."

Connie couldn't believe the night was ending so abruptly.

Wait, Mike, don't go," pleaded Connie, with desperation in her eyes, "Don't you want to talk about this?"

Connie watched him with pleading eyes. She became absurdly aware of the sound of her own breathing. She fought to keep the movement of her breath slow and regular as she thought of what else to say.

"You're right, you know," Connie tried to make him understand, "there _is_ something between us, but for me to give up what what took me a lifetime to achieve...

She tried to say more, but suddenly, her throat closed, and her shoulders quivered.

Meanwhile Mike concluded he had mistaken their light bantering, their lingering looks, their sweet closenesss as something more than it was. He'll think twice before he'll waste his time again.

"What more is there to say, Connie?" he asked her, "There is no solution to this and I've fought my feelings for you long enough; I need to move on."

Connie wanted to convince him to stay a little long, but harsh reality came crashing down on her.

He was right. She wasn't ready and was just avoiding the inevitable. This was perhaps what they needed to break it off. Cleanly. Completely.

She looked down at her lap. Back when she had to go up against Marcus Woll in court, she had told Mike she was a damaged witness. In reality, she was a damaged person. Because of what she had gone through with Woll, her heart was scarred, seemingly unable to heal.

"I-I don't know...everything...happened...so fast..." Connie was confused, "like I said...the timing..."

Mike shoved his hands in his pockets.

"The only way we can ever work is if both of us are in..all the way." he stated, and when she remained silent, he had his answer, "But I see your decision has been made, Connie."

The problem was, Connie didn't know if she had enough to give him. He wanted it all, but a part of her needed to keep her independence, her career.

"But, Mike.."

"…Don't worry," added Mike sounding businesslike, "The case will move forward as planned...see you bright and early in court tomorrow, Connie."

The words seemed to hang suspended in the air. Connie couldn't bear to look at him and by the time she had looked up, Mike was already headed towards the door.

She watched the backside of him departing.

Connie took several long breaths to settle her thoughts as Mike disappeared from sight and soon she only heard the sounds of his retreating footsteps echoing in the hallway.

When she heard the elevator doors shut, she knew Mike was truly gone. An empty, forlorn silence occupied her office, such as she had never heard before.

And once again, she was left with only a lonely heart.

.

.

**_Final courtroom scene next chapter!_**

_ **Mystery of the names will be solved!**_

_Please review_


	20. Chapter 20

Up to bat

Chapter 20

Both Mike and Connie had a sleepless night, but court day, was court day, and they were professionals.

Outside the courtroom doors, Stanford Bennett, the defense lawyer, was assuring Cantrell he wouldn't have to be on the stand too much longer. _Big deal if he (Cantrell) had a_ _crush on Paige Regan, _Bennett waved that idea aside, little damage was done.

The way Bennett saw it, what other questions could Cutter ask without sounding repetitive?

Cantrell nodded with relief as Bennett patted him on the shoulder and they entered the courtroom.

Mike and Connie were already seated when Bennett took his seat and Cantrell went up to the witness stand.

Court was back in session.

Mike stood up, buttoned his jacket and confidently walked up to Cantrell on the stand, "Good morning, Mr. Cantrell."

Cantrell merely nodded, ready for Mike's first question.

"Mr Cantrell, do you like pornography?"

Although everyone in the courtroom by now was familiar with Mike's method of questioning, there were still some audible gasps heard.

W-what?" Cantrell asked, as he colored slightly, hoping he heard wrong.

Mike expected to hear Bennett's objection. Sure enough, the defense lawyer did not disappoint.

"Objection!"

Judge Cruz did not waste any time, "Sustained."

Mike did not look fazed as he walked back to the prosecution table. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he glanced down, for there on the legal pad, Connie had written, "_You're on the pitcher's mound..strike him out!"_

Putting aside their personal feelings, Mike and Connie were still a legal team. And Connie was all about supporting Mike as she nodded to him confidently.

Mike picked up a piece of paper she had handed him and walked back towards Cantrell.

"If I may, your Honor, I would like to present exhibit A…"

He showed the judge a copy before presenting the original to Cantrell.

"Now, Mr. Cantrell…this was your shared credit card bill for living expenses at the beach-house. Do you recognize this sheet as your credit card statement?"

Cantrell glanced quickly at the sheet, "Probably."

"_Probably_?" Mike repeated, "This either _is_ or is _not_ your credit card statement, Mr. Cantrell."

Cantrell looked irritated.

"Then...I guess, it _is_, alright?"

Mike acknowledged.

"Fine...now, Mr. Cantrell, will you please read out loud the entry I am pointing to?"

Cantrell read the line Mike had indicated with his pencil.

"Uh, Netflix." he stated.

"Good. Thank you. And what exactly is NetFlix, Mr. Cantrell?"

Cantrell sighed impatiently.

"It's a DVD rental service. You get the DVD's through the mail. When you mail it back, you can rent a different DVD."

"Yes, good explanation there…" Mike then moved his pencil down a few lines on the statement page, "Now...could you please read this line to me?"

Cantrell looked at the line and his eyes got large. He looked at Mike with a stunned expression.

"Mr. Cantrell?" Mike encouraged him to answer.

He cleared his throat, "SexFlix."

"SexFlix? _Really_?" Mike asked, "And could you please tell us what SexFlix is?"

"It's…it's another DVD rental service."

"Yes, it is," agreed Mike, "And how is it different from NetFlix?"

"They, uh, have _different_ movies to rent…"

"What kind?"

Cantrell looked pale, "Porn movies."

"I see," said Mike, "So before, when I asked if you liked pornography, perhaps I should have asked if you liked _watching_ pornographic movies instead."

"Doesn't everyone?" he looked around the courtroom with innocent eyes.

"We are only referring to you, Mr. Cantrell, "Mike sharply reminded him, "So, let me reword my original question …do you enjoy _watching _pornographic movies?"

He shifted uncomfortably, "Sometimes."

Bennett had begun to rise.

"…and" stated Mike, gesturing towards the defense lawyer, "perhaps Mr. Bennett over there is standing to say he also enjoys watching them!"

Snickering in the gallery could be heard, and Connie had to hide his smile.

"_Objection!_" Bennett strenuously stated, "He's badgering the defense counsel!"

His comment caused more small snickerings throughout the room.

"Withdrawn!" Mike declared, but the judge did not look too happy.

"Mr. Cutter," warned the Judge, "As entertaining as you may be, I will not have you turn my courtroom into a circus _again_! Had we not already discussed this in closed chambers? Do you, perhaps, need a _written_ reminder?"

Mike had the good sense to look contrite.

"I sincerely apologize, your Honor," Mike ruefully stated, "Perhaps my line of questioning _has_ been a bit…too unconventional. I, therefore, would like to call up my colleague, Miss Rubirosa, to continue the questioning of the witness, Mr. Cantrell."

Mike looked over at Connie as she stood, waiting for the signal from the Judge to proceed.

The Judge considered the matter, "Although the request is highly unusual, I will defer the question over to defense counsel...Mr. Bennett, do you have any objections regarding Miss Rubirosa taking over for the prosecution?"

Bennett looked over at Connie.

_Great_, smirked Bennett, his confidence building. Cutter is tripping over himself and now needs to bring in the second string. Bennett was going to love this.

He'll rip Rubirosa to shreds.

"None at all, your Honor," Bennett smiled politely, "In fact, I welcome Miss Rubirosa as the lead attorney."

Unceremoniously, Mike and Connie switched places. When Mike got back to the table, he glanced at the legal pad which now read, "…_bottom of the ninth, and I'm at bat_."

"Good morning, Mr. Cantrell," Connie greeted him, "My name is Miss Rubirosa….You remember me from the beachhouse, don't you?"

Cantrell appreciated this softer approach, "Yes."

Connie acknowledged with a smile, "I'd like to ask you some questions, if I may?"

Cantrell nodded, smiling back at the comely prosecutor, "Sure!"

Connie looked pleased.

"Thank you...I will try and make this as painless as possible."

Larry Cantrell leaned back, relaxed, as Connie continued.

"Mr. Cantrell, I need to go back and regrettably ask you that awkward question regarding..." she leaned in, almost whispering the phrase, "... _adult movies_…"

"Oh, I understand," Cantrell actually urged her on.

"And don't worry, I am _not_ judging you, Mr. Cantrell, " Connie assured him, "After all, it's not illegal to watch adult movies."

"Of course you're right," Cantrell acknowledged.

"So, Mr. Cantrell..."

"Yes?"

"...regarding, these adult movies... do you have a favorite?"

She said it in the same kind tone, but the words caused Cantrell to look confused, "What?"

Connie's eyes showed determination.

"I don't doubt that you heard _every single word_ of that question, Mr. Cantrell!" Connie's voice suddenly sounded more authoritarian now, "so please,_ answer that question_!"

If Cantrell had looked pale before, he looked absolutely albino now.

He shot a glance at the defense table, hoping to get a cue from Bennett. But Connie had deftly moved her body so that it blocked his view of the defense lawyer.

Mike smiled. He hadn't expected the body block. She's good...

Not knowing what to do, Cantrell then quickly turned towards the judge.

"I want to plead the fifth, your Honor!" he announced suddenly.

"_Mr. Cantrell_, " Connie now sounded impatient and insistent, "We've dealt with that issue previously...you cannot."

Bennett shot to his feet, "Your Honor, the witness has asked for counsel!"

"I did not hear those words come out of Mr. Cantrell's mouth, your Honor," Connie told the Judge.

"Not in so many words, " Bennett asserted, "but Mr. Cantrell is at a lost as to how to respond to these ridiculous questions!"

"I've only had the chance to ask one question, Your Honor, " Connie's response was immediate, "and Mr. Bennett cannot attest to Mr. Cantrell's state of mind, unless Mr. Bennett is ready to testify that _he is a psychic_!"

"But Mr. Cantrell is obviously in need of some advice!" Bennett argued, "That is why he is pleading the fifth!"

"The fifth amendment was intended to prevent self-incrimination," Connie asserted, "Mr. Cantrell is not on trial here. He is merely a witness who is being questioned to name his favorite movie of a specific genre."

The Judge nodded, "I have to agree with Miss Rubirosa, Overruled."

Bennett was visibly sweating, "Then, your Honor, due to the lateness of the morning, I would like to call for a ten minute recess!"

The Judge sighed and looked at her watch.

"Your Honor, " Connie stood firm, "I will make my point very shortly and _I do not want this witness to leave the stand!"_

The entire gallery seemed to be at the edge of their seats for they did not want the break, either.

The Judge peered at a sweating Bennett. Mike leaned forward, willing the Judge not to call recess.

The gallery was still.

"No recess," the Judge at last announced.

Connie had not realized she had been holding her breath until Bennett sat back down.

"So, I will ask again, Mr. Cantrell," inquired Connie, "do you have a favorite pornographic movie?"

"No."

"Then, Mr. Cantrell, have you ever heard of a pornographic movie called 'Sleeping Booty?" Connie asked.

Larry Cantrell's mouth dropped.

"…Mr. Cantrell?" Connie prodded.

"Uh, can you repeat that title?" Cantrell looked uncomfortable.

"_Sleeping Booty_. Have you seen or heard of it?"

"I don't think so."

"You don't think so? So perhaps?" Connie asked.

At that point, Mike inexplicitly got up and left the courtroom.

Connie had walked back to the prosecution table to retrieve a paper. Before he left, Mike had written on the legal pad, _Love the way you say 'booty'. _

Connie had to work at keeping her composure as she picked up another paper and walked back to Cantrell, who looked totally baffled_._

"M-maybe that's the title," he stated, " but we rent…a lot of those, um, kind of movies, and I'm not good with movie titles."

"Then let me refresh your memory, Mr. Cantrell."

Assuredly, Connie produced a paper for him to see, announcing it as exhibit B, "According to SexFlix, that particular DVD had been rented and sent to the beach-house that you shared with Mr. Martin and Mr. North. Then it was mailed back to them the day _after _Miss Regan reported the assault. Did I get that right, Mr. Cantrell?"

"I-I don't recall."

"I would like to produce People's Exhibit C," announced Connie, as she walked over to the prosecution table. She then picked up a DVD and announced, "I have in my hand a copy of 'Sleeping Booty'."

The rear double doors of the courtroom suddenly burst opened, causing all eyes to turn towards the back.

The bailiff opened held the doors opened as Mike returned, wheeling in a portable TV with a DVD player attached.

"If I may, your Honor," Connie said, still holding the DVD, "there is one short scene I would like to play as Exhibit D."

The courtroom hushed. Everyone's eyes were focused on the TV screen as Connie inserted the DVD.

"Objection!" Bennett stood up.

"Overruled," the Judge announced, without even hearing Bennett's argument. She, like everyone else, was anxious to see the evidence.

"But..." Bennett began, and then realized he needed to sit down.

The courtroom lights were dimmed and Mike inserted the tape Connie had handed to him; one of many tapes TJ had to preview over many hours to get the right scene.

Mike then pressed the _play_ button.

The screen was snowy and suddenly there was a picture.

_It was of a bedroom, the main furniture being a king sized bed. There were two men and a woman, already in various stages of undress, on top of the bed. It was a rough ménage a trios, with the two men tossing around the female like a plaything._

"_Turn her over, Jesse,"_ sneered one.

"_Yeah, Phoenix, like that, flip her, flip her!_"

Connie wasn't looking at the screen. She was looking at the jury's reaction. They sat in silence, glued to the screen.

Then she scanned the room towards Bennett in time to see the look of defeat in his eyes. The courthouse was quiet of any noise except what was coming from the TV.

The two young defendants looked sick as the scene continued.

Edward North's father, Jackson North, disgustedly stood up and left in the middle of the proceedings. But no one cared.

The three actors on the screen were now in the exact positions Paige had previously described in her testimony regarding Martin, North and her.

"_Bend her over, Phoenix…"_

_"Yeah, do her like that, Jesse..."_

And there it was.

The _exact_ same dialogue that Paige Regan had testified that the assailants had used that night, played out right before everyone's eyes.

Connie now viewed the prosecution table. Paige was proudly sitting up, her spine straight. Their eyes met and Paige smiled and nodded. She wiped a tear from her cheek.

Finally Connie turned and looked at Mike, who had turned off the video.

When he looked back at her, he was smiling. He nodded, his eyes sparkling with pride.

And Connie felt her own eyes getting watery.

.

.

The trial was over, the courtroom had been cleared.

The two winning prosecutors began packing up their papers in their briefcases.

"You played it perfectly," Mike complimented her, as if they had not had the awkward conversation the night before.

"Thanks, Mike" smiled Connie, thinking everything had smoothed over for them, "I guess this calls for a celebratory drink. My treat!"

She received a silent response.

Her victorious mood vanished when she saw the way Mike was staring at her with his penetrating blue eyes. His expression had become remote.

"Connie, I can't stay. ..In fact, I'm leaving for the airport now."

His tone was emotionlessly monotone. She heard the words, but didn't want to believe them as she tried to move closer to him.

"No, Mike…"

But Connie stopped, when she saw that he actually stepped back. Obviously Mike wanted to preserve the distance between them.

"I told you, Connie," his voice scraping at his throat, "it's all or nothing."

She looked down, trying to absorbed his words. Her breathing came in short little gasps. She didn't want it to end this way. But Mike had his life to return back to, and it would be unfair of her to ask him to stay if she could not make any promises.

She held her head high. At least her pride would not allow him to see how much this was killing her.

"Well then…" she tried to keep the trembling out of her voice, as she observed him, "if you must go..."

It was no use to delay the inevitable. She forced herself to look right at him, trying to fill her mind with every detail of his face; the depths of his blue eyes, the elegant planes of his cheeks, the shape of his sensual mouth.

The air felt heavy as he returned her gaze, his throat dry, his heart aching.

He took in a deep breath.

"Good-bye, Connie."

At least she had managed to hide the sadness in her eyes. She forced herself to squeeze out a smile.

"Have a nice trip back, Mike."

He nodded and turned to go.

She tried to occupy her mind with other things. Looking down, she methodically began putting away the rest of her papers in her briefcase. But it didn't stop her from being aware of his retreating footsteps, or of the slamming of the courtroom door.

After fumbling with the lock of her briefcase, she looked up and found herself alone.

Her eyes stung. All she could see was an infuriating blur, as she felt an insistent tear trickle down her cheek. She brought her hand up to quickly wipe it away.

She missed him already. A slight memory entered her mind of their visit to the observatory; how they had intimately watched a shooting star traveling across the darkened skies.

Her time with Mike, she realized, was exactly like that shooting star;_ it had been brief, yet striking._

And like that star, it was a bright and wonderful phenomenon.

Until it/he had vanished from her sight.

.

_Please review_


	21. Chapter 21

A decision

Chapter 21

Two days later

At her mother's house, Connie had another sleep-deprived night, tossing and turning.

She awakened early and went to the window of her room. Pushing back the curtains, she stared outside at the front lawn, which was illuminated by the blue-gray shades of dawn's early light. Smog drifted over the city mixed with the fog, softening the rigid tract layout of the cookie cutter homes on the street.

Birds chirped and the sun rose, as another workday rolled in. From the window, Connie glanced back at her forlorn, unmade bed. She wanted to crawl back into it and pull the covers over her head.

"I should be happy, " she said to herself, puzzled by her own inner emptiness.

The kind of successful career she desired, the well-ordered life she craved, was within her immediate grasp…but it was no longer enough.

A brief memory flashed through her mind. She recalled how, as a young junior prosecutor, she had been attracted to what she had believed back then was the debonair Marcus Woll. How naïve she had been to think he had been enamored with her, when in reality, he was only in love with himself.

She had certainly learned a hard lesson about love. Connie gazed back out the window, admiring the sunrise. As its beauty struck the darkness of the sky, Connie knew that despite resisting it with all her might, she could not no longer hide her true feelings from herself.

She was in love with Mike.

Connie didn't know when that had happened. It had slowly built up in time, probably in New York with their daily interactions. The realization of being in love with him had come over her, not with the immediacy of a summer thunderstorm, but with the slow persistence of the April rain.

All she knew was that whenever she was with Mike, her heart beat faster and she never felt lonely; only with Mike did she feel alive and whole.

And although she had recently been promoted to Senior Deputy District Attorney, she was no longer interested in climbing the legal ladder in LA.

All she wanted to do now was return to New York City and hopefully in the open arms of Mike Cutter.

She missed his clever observations, his snarky comments, his provocative conversations. A rush of desire suddenly filled her as she yearned to see him, the sensation overwhelming her. For not only did he put a smile on her face, but he put one on her _heart_ as well.

Life without Mike would be slow and unbearably dull…much like how her life was now, she realized.

_"Con-nie!"_

Her mother was calling her from downstairs. She could hear all manner of noises as the home health aide was down in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Her mother's needs were well attended to.

Connie walked over and opened her bedroom door, "I'll be down in a moment!"

Closing the door again, her thoughts returned to Mike. All the times she was with him, her heart had resisted the inexorable pull of her feelings for him.

Not any longer.

It's time she started living her life with the person she loved, she decided resolutely.

But as she went over to make her bed, fear gripped her heart.

What if he did not want to see her? He may have felt that she'd put him through so much already. Her heart pounded violently and she felt weak all over at the thought that he may reject her.

Maybe he wasn't even missing her. Perhaps he was endeavoring to keep himself so busy that he had little time to dwell on their short time together in LA.

She had been a fool to let him go.

The bed was made and she got out the clothes she would wear to work. She was willing to take the chance to find out. Today would be a turning point in her career, her life, she determined.

It would start with Connie giving her two-weeks notice.

.

.

(Two weeks later)

It was her last day at work.

She thought it only fitting that she say her final goodbye to DA Jerry Hardin, the one that gave her a chance here in the first place. She walked towards his office and through the opened door, noted him quietly working at his desk.

"Jerry," Connie hovered in Hardin's doorway, "I didn't want to bother you, but—"

DA Hardin had been looking over some administrative files when Connie had appeared. A smile appeared on his face as he gave a wave for her to enter and take a seat.

He sat back from his seat as he viewed his favorite employee.

"Well, Connie, " he spoke at last, "I guess there is nothing I could say that would change your mind about leaving…not a better office?…not a better position?…not a higher salary?…"

A feeling of sadness brushed over her at the word' leaving', but her heart knew it was time. She knew what she wanted and she had no second thoughts.

"We have already spoken of this, Jerry, " Connie forced an answering smile to her lips, "And the answer is still no. I've made my decision…but I thank you, Jerry, for the wonderful opportunity to work for you. I've certainly learned a lot here."

Hardin took a long breath. It was harder than he thought to let her go. Senseless, random thoughts came to him. He didn't understand it, but he was filled with a sense of loneliness, which was ridiculous. These drifting fantasies of his regarding Connie were never a possibility and he always knew that.

It was just... as long as she was here, she kept alive that hope that was buried deep in his heart.

Jerry's face was wiped clean of expression, "I thought as much. New York City is gaining back a great prosecutor. You will be sorely missed here."

His reluctant words sounded grimly pragmatic.

Connie stood up. There really wasn't anything more to say, "Good bye Jerry, and again, thank you for everything."

As she turned to leave, his parting words caused her heart to contract.

"I'm a sucker for happy endings you know," he stated to her back, "So good luck in New York with Cutter!"

.

.

She was now back in her office, slowly and methodically she was putting all her personal effects from her desk into a cardboard box.

Smiling, she looked at the dozen daisies on her desk, sent by Paige Regan. In a short note, Paige had added that by the time Connie receives this bouquet, Paige would have arrived in New York City. She signed the card with a happy flourish, adding that Cyrus Lupo will be the one picking her up at the airport.

Seemed that Paige knew what she wanted, Connie thought happily. Now it was her turn.

Connie realized she was taking a big chance, flying all the way back to New York with no plans. It was so unlike her to chase rainbows, to take risks in life. She was all about organization and timetables.

But she needed to know if she had a real chance with Mike. And she was ready to put her heart on the line in order to find out.

"Connie, he-ey..."

Connie had been so deep in thought, she hadn't realize Joe Dekker standing in the doorway of her office.

"Joe," she greeted in her usual tone, as she placed her favorite law book in the box, "Do I detect an actual welcome from you?"

Without invitation he came up and stood next to her, "I've always felt hellos and goodbyes were basically a waste of time: just get to the point!"

Connie smiled, knowing this may be the last conversation she has with him, "That's you, all the way, Joe!"

Joe guffawed.

"But I'll make an exception with you, this time" added Joe, "I guess I'll have to say my salutations and closings all in one shot now!"

She smiled at his idea of light-heartedness.

"I'll miss you, too, Joe," she said.

"I figured you would," he nodded, "So...it's back to New York for you?"

"Yes," she replied, "and I'm actually looking forward to it!"

Joe tilted his head, questionably, "are you leaving...because of me?"

How typical! Connie exasperatingly thought. Naturally it would be all about Joe Dekker! So much for ending their working relationship on a high note! She stopped packing and turned to face Joe.

"There's a part of me that wished it were so, "Connie forced a smile, "but no, Joe, it has nothing to do with you."

She resumed putting things in the box.

Joe stood still, his body rigid, as if it had been carved in marble, "Good! Because I can finally tell you now how I feel about you. I really didn't think LA had been a good fit for you, so perhaps New York is where you belong!"

"How...utterly honest of you," Connie responded drolly.

"Hold on! I wasn't even done talking, but as usual, you felt a need to interrupt me..." claimed Dekker as Connie worked at not rolling her eyes.

She turned to give him her last bit of attention.

"Yes, Joe, what else did you want to say?"

Joe looked directly at her, "It's this, Connie...you are truly... _one hell of a lawyer_ and it has been a privilege working with you!"

A faint smile touched Connie's lips.

"Once again, Joe," she said looking bemused, " just when I think I know you, you come up with something totally unexpected! Where were these accolades when I was working alongside you?"

Joe lifted a finger and pointed to his head, "in here, " he explained "locked away in my mind. I just never said it aloud. But you have to admit, Connie... my methods have made you think deeper, work harder, and it eventually made you a better lawyer, _right?_ So if your prosecutory skills have improved during your time in LA, you have _me_ to thank for that!"

Connie shook her head, enjoying the backhanded compliment. Joe Dekker would never change, but this time her smile was genuine, "Yes, Joe, it was all due to you! Thank you!'"

.

.

It wasn't too much longer before she got a visit in her office from her two friends, Lizbeth and Heather.

"I wish you didn't have to go," Lizbeth offered, "but we understand...after all, you are off to be with the person you were meant to be with!"

"…and what a true love he is!" said Heather with a sigh, "to think you are going to be swept off your feet by the dreamy Mike Cutter! How romantic!"

Connie was going to miss all this light bantering from her friends.

"Alright, you two, " said Connie, "Enough with all the kidding…I told you…I'm going back to New York City because I miss living there and…."

She paused. Who was she trying to fool?

She looked appreciatively at her two best friends in LA, the ones that made her laugh, helped her to examine herself, encouraged her to grow this past year.

They were her friends for life.

"...and," Connie continued, "...I'm going back to New York City because I'm in love with Mike."

There. She admitted it outloud at last.

"Oh, Connie!" squealed Lizbeth, "He'll be the lucky one, if he gets _you_!"

"You bet!" exclaimed Heather, clapping her hands, "...and when you get there, you can tell that gorgeous hunk of a man that I think that too!"

Connie hugged each of her friends.

"..You know," Connie admitted, "I wish I didn't have to leave you two, I'll miss both of you so much!"

"Oh, stop that! " Lizbeth said, slightly sniffling, "and go after your Prince!"

"Yeah," said Heather, "and when you do, just remember one thing..."

Connie tilted her head as she looked at her good friend, "And what's that, Heather?"

Heather sighed with longing.

"...That from this seemingly ordinary life you've lived, a fairytale was given to you!"

There were tears in Connie's eyes.

She certainly hoped so.

.

.

Please review

_Last chapter coming up!_


	22. Chapter 22

Rain and romance in New York City

Chapter 22

New York City

There were rumblings of thunder in the sky. It was the end of a workday night, and the Big Apple was about to experience one of its typical Spring showers.

The sky had darkened from a silver-white to gray.

It started with a few drops.

_Pitter-patter... pitter-patter..._

Then slowly more drops began to dribble down on the city landscape. They slowly became heavier, and within twenty minutes, New Yorkers had to maneuver through the rain-soaked sidewalks as the headlights from cars and taxis shined their refracted, blurred beams of lights on the wet traffic streets.

Mike was one of those caught in the unexpected deluge.

Holding his briefcase above his head, he strode through the showery streets. The rain bore on endlessly, as dark gray clouds covered the sky, not allowing even a feeble few rays from the sun to penetrate its barriers.

The monotonous sound of raindrops beating on the sidewalk now blended in with whooshing sounds of passing vehicles. People pushed forward, dressed in heavy coats, not stopping to look at anything or anyone.

Everything was bleak, gray and dreary.

In fact, New York City had looked that way to Mike for the past two weeks since he had been back. And now the rain only seemed to heightened his sense of isolation from the outside world.

At last he arrived at his tiny, empty apartment. Mike wiped his rain-soaked shoes on his door mat as he inserted the key in the lock of his front door.

Flinging his door open, Mike brought in a gust of fresh rain-laden wind with him as he entered his darkened apartment. Slamming the door shut, he swore slightly under his breath while he struggled with closing his dripping umbrella. Successful at last, he hung the contraption on a hook in the entry way.

Removing his thick wool coat and placing it on the wall hook, he turned on the lights and walked over to pour himself a glass of brandy. He needed something powerfully effective to warm away the chills from his body.

With his drink in hand, he walked past the living room, and turned on the light to his bedroom.

Buckets of water seemed to pour off his bedroom rooftop onto his fire escape, the sounds like an eternal shower that was left to run. As he peered outside the bedroom window, he witnessed raindrops dribbling off the metal railings outside.

It looked as though the downpour would not stop for hours.

Wind and rain continually pounded against the bedroom window. Soon the cold air from the outside intermingled with the warm air from his apartment, causing heavy condensation on the inside of his window, eclipsing his view of the city outside.

As he held his drink in one hand, he seemed mesmerized by the heavily dewed window.

He lightly touched his finger against the cool glass window. The misty condensation separated at the spot where he placed his finger to give him a slight view of the world again.

Mike didn't know what motivated him to do it, but as he stood there, he slowly and methodically began moving his finger across the moistened glass, spelling out the following words:

_I love her_

He stared at the words, somehow feeling better that he had been able to express his internal thoughts. Sadly he realized that no one would ever know that he was in love with Connie; it would be something he would keep forever locked away in the deep chamber of his heart.

A frown marred the smoothness of his brow as he noted that the words he had written were already starting to fade. Lifting his hand once more, he made a straight swipe across to erase the blurred words.

He let out one slow regretful breath.

The impromptu lucid mark he made on the windowpane enabled a condensed view of the outside again. Looking down from the second floor, he caught a glimpse of movement below his fire escape on the ground below.

He maneuvered his head, and willed his eyes to focus through the blurry rain-smeared windowpane.

Was that a person standing below his window in the pouring rain? he wondered. Taking two fingers, he swiped a linear path on the window to see better.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up, his mind not believing what his eyes were telling him.

_No, it couldn't be..._

There was a slight tremor in his fingers that sent the amber liquid in his glass sloshing against the sides as he hastily set the drink down. Then using his elbow, he rubbed away the remaining condensation from the window, making a circle larger and larger with each wiping movement.

At last he could clearly make out the lone figure standing in the rain.

_Connie_.

She stood outside, her wet body illuminated by the now lit streetlight. Standing steadfastly, she was slightly shivering from the cold as rain continued to pelt her. Mike instantly flung opened his apartment window.

"Connie!" he yelled through the blustery raindrops, "_Connie!"_

The second time he shouted her name, she looked up. The torrential waters hit her face full on while her damp clothes flapped in the powerful gush of wind. She seemed unconcern as she kept her eyes on Mike.

Water immediately attacked the inside of his cozy apartment and parts of his arm and upper torso, as he reached out to her, "_It's pouring out there! Get in here_!"

An earsplitting sound of thunder could be heard in the distance as more rain fell.

Mike stuck his foot out and went out to stand on the landing of his fire escape. He quickly released the fire escape ladder.

"Quickly! Climb up, Connie!" he yelled insistently through the pouring rain as waited patiently for her to come up.

Her face was partially shadowed as she stared over at the steel ladder. Then marshalling her courage, Connie tentatively pulled the ladder all the way down. Grabbing the rails, she managed to fight the wind and rain as she clambered to where he stood on his landing. Grasping his outstretched hand, she allowed him to lead her through the window to inside his bedroom. Then he quickly shut the window.

Once safely ensconced in the warmth and quietude of his apartment, he shot her a searching glance as she dripped water everywhere.

"Connie," he looked at her with huge eyes, "You're _here…_ But... how? _Why_? "

She was brushing water off of her when she suddenly looked up at him.

"I-I didn't know if I should come up," she answered truthfully, "I was just about to leave when you-"

"No, wait! stop!" Mike interrupted, confused, yet ecstatic, "first things first...what are you doing back in New York City?"

"I had to come back," Connie responded quietly.

Mike didn't know what to make of her answer.

"You _had_ to come back to New York City?"

While Mike watched her with wide eyed curiosity, Connie took several long breaths to settle her thoughts. Her heart picked up an agitated pace and her blood stirred with restless heat.

"No, Mike…I had to come back…to _you_…"

Her words were like an explosion in his brain, setting every cell and nerve afire. He seemed too stunned to reply as he watched her, droplets of water rolling from all corners off of her.

She had been so intent on getting the words out she had not realized how wet her clothes were until she looked down at her dripping form.

"Oh Mike!..I've dripped all over your floor," she glumly commented, as she brushed a wet strand from her face before adding, "And I look like a wet rag!"

Rainwater spilled down from all sides of her, randomly dripping down. Mike looked at her soggy form, and then at the mini-puddles she had created in his living room and he couldn't help displaying a grin.

"_What?_" Connie asked, unsure of his unusual reaction, as she attempted to jerk away some water from her arms.

"They've invented something called an 'umbrella', you know," Mike stated with lingering amusement.

The mood had turned lighthearted.

"Well, there's that, " she began causally, still shaking off the water, "but who knew the showers would come today? It had been bright and sunny five hours ago when I left California."

"And you never heard of Springtime rain in New York?" he asked teasingly, "We New Yorkers always know to keep an umbrella nearby."

"Pfft! Umbrellas!," mocked Connie, with a _no-big-deal_ wave, "They're for sissies."

Connie looked over as Mike laugh.

Even though Mike's eyes sparkled with amusement, his expression afterwards subtly shifted as both became aware that they were alone together.

Connie's face flushed at the way he was now looking at her. She felt sensations brushing along her nerves. Mike was watching her with inquisitive interest. The room became quiet, except for the torrent of rain outside.

"I'm so glad you're here, Connie," he said at last, "but what you had stated earlier about being here..."

At least he didn't turn her away.

His statement seemed to relax her, "Mike, m_y _only goal was to get back to you as quickly as possible._.._"

Deep emotions flared inside Mike at her words. But his thoughts shifted as he saw her body gave a big shudder and he realized that she needed to get out of those wet clothes.

"Connie," he stated concernedly, " You're soaked to the bone…Listen...let me bring you a towel and something dry for you to wear," he volunteered, as he gestured towards the bathroom, "then we'll talk."

Relieved, she gave him an appreciative smile, "Thanks, Mike."

A heat of passion rose in both their eyes as they gazed at each other one last time before Connie reluctantly forced herself to turn and leave.

.

Mike had informed her through the closed bathroom door that he had left some dry things for her to wear in addition to a towel. He had also been able to change into some casual clothes. With Connie busy drying herself, Mike nervously ran his hand through his slightly wet tousled hair as he walked back out to the living room and looked around his place.

He could hear his hairdryer on. Connie's _here,_ he internalized, s_he's actually here_. Subconsciously, he started straightening some magazines, but stopped himself, knowing he didn't have the time to clean up and organize things now.

Maybe he should get out some wine, he thought as he rushed over to his simple his mini bar. Getting out some glasses, he again stopped himself. He might as well order flowers, and bring in some violin music, he thought sarcastically. How obvious can he be?

He did not want to make it look like he expected this to be a romantic rendezvous. Perhaps he should casually offer her some lemonade instead. _Lemonade?_ How about adding a birthday cake, clowns and a bounce house?

Before he could decide on anything, Connie emerged.

She stood at the doorway, trying to look casual, but her insides were quivering with nervousness.

Mike's gaze when he first saw her became alive and hot.

Without makeup, she looked lovely and fresh-faced, her auburn hair clean and shiny. She was wearing one of his workday buttoned shirts. The fit was large and long, with the opened v-collar invitingly shadowing the softness of her neck. She also had on a pair of his long john pants. At her feet she wore his thick woolen socks as she stood across the wooden floors of his apartment.

A strange expression crossed her face as she looked back at him. There was hesitation mixed in with pleasure. The awkwardness was due to the fact of being alone with Mike in his apartment. The blissful part was feeling dry, warm and content wearing one of Mike's business shirts. She personally loved the masculine feel and smell of his clothes.

At that last thought, her smile was genuine.

The bottom slit of his shirt parted as she walked towards him, exposing the entire length and shape of her long legs. The artificial light from his apartment shone through his expensive European-cut shirt that she wore, giving him an opportunity to make out her womanly form.

Just watching her, Mike felt a peculiar tightness in his chest that gave a strained quality to his heartbeat. He had never known that dressing boyishly feminine could be so enticing. No need for the wine, he thought. He felt intoxicated enough.

More rumpling thunder could be heard from the outside as she stopped in front of him.

"Connie," Mike said in a hushed voice, "I've never seen you look more beautiful."

That one line placated her nervousness.

And as Connie continued watching him, she thought how attractive he looked dressed in his comfortable sweats. His eyes were serious now and his face was so austerely beautiful that the very sight of him made her chest ache with desire.

This time she would not miss her opportunity.

"Mike...first…let me say what I need to say to you…" her voice felt as if it were scraping her throat, "It's just...I never should have allowed you to leave LA without me...I should have ran after you…"

"Connie, I...".

"No, wait...I'm not done," Connie interrupted, forcing herself to look directly at him, "I've been giving this a lot of thought...I'm ready to take that chance you had talked about in LA...I don't know where all of this will lead us, but I'm in it all the way...the two of us...if you still want me, that is..."

The room was as quiet as a tomb, with no sound or movement from Mike, who was only standing inches from her.

She had been rehearsing those words the entire time over here, and she had expected some reaction from him. But he merely looked at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

Connie's hope was getting dimmer.

If he still wanted her, if he still cared, she reasoned, she would be in his arms by now.

But he just stood there. The silence was unbearable. The realization made her want to shrink into nothing. Staring down at the floor, she bit her lip and wondered how to leave this uncomfortable situation.

_What more should I say? _Connie pondered_, What should I do now?_

With her head still dejectedly bowed down, Mike's stocking feet suddenly came into her vision. He had come to her so silently. A short gasp escaped her lips as she starred up at him in surprise.

Wordlessly, one of his hands settled cautiously on her cheek, making her heart race. He was smiling at her, as relief and love mingled deliciously inside of her. At last she reached up and covered his hands with hers.

Their hands were now intertwined together when she brought them down.

Mike could not believe all this was happening. There was a peculiar tightness in Mike's chest that made his heartbeat pound wildly as he thought back what he had written in the fogged window.

He would tell her now.

One of his hands slid beneath her chin and he forced her to look at him. There was a strange mixture of tenderness and ruthless purpose in his expression.

"Connie, I've been in love with you so long," he admitted, as her lips parted in surprise, " and I've realized that when you were situated in LA, there was something worse than losing you…it was...not having the opportunity to ever love you at all."

"_Oh, Mike_…" Connie words sounded breathless as a ripple of pleasure went through her body at the words she longed to hear.

They could still hear the pitter patter of the rain outside, but its rhythmic beating was comforting now.

Mike stared into the lovely brown softness of her eyes, watched her as the color of passion rose to her cheeks. Excitement caused his heart to pound riotously.

"I love you, Connie…" he admitted, his voice sounding thick.

His words overwhelmed her. She moved even closer to him and pressed herself into his warmth. She felt his body shuddering as he wrapped his arms around her. The feel of his touch alone made her quiver with happiness.

When she looked up at him, he lowered his head obligingly.

Her limbs went limp with pleasure as his mouth covered hers. Her heart raced as she responded willingly, letting him kiss her exactly as he wanted. She lifted her hand to the back of his neck and let her fingertips drift into the locks of hair at his nape.

Their kiss seemed to burn with volcanic heat.

When they at last separated, the sound of their labored breathing was slow to diminish.

Connie felt his warmth, his love, as his arms enveloped her. He was so solid, so steady. The scent and feel of him was as familiar as if she had known him for her entire life. She pulled away slightly to look into the blue depths of his eyes.

"Mike, I love you, too," her heart aching for him.

Connie breathed deeply as his protective arms pulled her close to him once more. Her pulse was thrumming with desire as he reached over to kiss her again, his mouth was hot and tender against her flushed skin.

And then... there were no more need for words.

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_The end!_

_It's quite a daunting task to look at a blank of paper and try to create a story emotional and dramatic enough to sustain 22 chapters. I wanted to show Mike and Connie's courtroom tenacity as well as give them the happily ever after I thought they deserved!_

_I am humbly grateful for all the people who took the time to read and review. Some of them have become dear friends.__ I am truly the luckiest person in the world!_

_ I plan on taking a 2 month break to write for another site, but I DO have another Mike/Connie story in my head! Tentatively titled, "When Opposites Attract", I will have them on opposite sides of a case! I'm really looking forward to the challenge! Keep a lookout for it!_

_May you always keep a little romance in your heart!_

_A heartfelt thank you,_

_DaisyDay_

**_Please review for the last time!_**

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